


So Apocalypse, take two

by bitethedusk



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Brotherly Affection, Canon-Typical Violence, Dean Winchester Needs a Hug, F/M, Fix-It, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester Needs a Hug, Season/Series 01, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:35:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 38,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26160490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitethedusk/pseuds/bitethedusk
Summary: COMPLETE“So,” said Sam, obviously not quite believing him despite all the evidence. “So. You really are from the future.”“Yep. From 2010, to be precise.”“Just six years?”Dean laughed mirthlessly.“Yeah. Just six years. But, you know, back there I really missed those times when our problems were finding dad and killing the thing that killed Mom and Jess.”And you weren’t soulless or addicted to demon blood,he added to himself.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 97
Kudos: 400





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Death has a better idea than just raising Sam's soul from the Cage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thanks to [AlexFlex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexFlex/pseuds/AlexFlex) for betaing!

“Hold on. What do you mean – you can send me back in time?” 

Not that Dean had never traveled in time before, but he had a feeling that this time Death meant something different from the usual go back – fix it – return to present routine. 

“That I can send you back in time. If your brother doesn't go to the Cage, he will never lose his soul.” 

“But you said you could raise his soul from the Cage and return it to his body.”

“That’s what I indeed would have done if you had succeeded. You didn’t – though you didn’t fail completely either. So, I decided to give you another lesson. And another chance.”

“I don’t understand,” Dean said cautiously. Death couldn’t seriously suggest that he go back in time to prevent Sam from diving into the Cage just to give him another lesson. Throwing him at least two years back was hardly that much easier than retrieving Sam’s soul directly from the Cage, so why bother?

“You’re quite familiar with time-traveling.” 

“Yeah. But those times I changed the past so that the present would remain the same. I just prevented some shit from happening and immediately went back. That’s not what you’re suggesting right now, is it?”

“No. I suggest something on a larger scale. You go to the past with all your knowledge, you will stay there, make wiser decisions, and hopefully, we all will end up in a better universe.” 

That sounded pretty much like he had a carte blanche to fix all his past fuckups. Too good to be true. He had just had to watch everything spiraling out of control because he hadn’t killed a girl. How the hell could he make wiser decisions if that would be the result?

“And what happened to this importance of ‘natural order’ you talked about?” 

“Nothing. Today you learned how unpredictable the consequences of well-intentioned actions can be. Once you’re in the past, never forget about that. Your travel is supposed to maintain the natural order. You’ll prevent events that are never supposed to happen.”

“Bad news then – they’ve already happened,” Dean snapped and immediately wished he could hold his tongue for once. There was something about Death that always gave Dean chills down his spine – a clear sign that you’d better not piss him off. He still remembered Death’s words when they had met for the first time, about him basically being a bacterium that had started to get snarky.

“You’re going back in time, so nothing has happened yet,” explained Death patiently.

Dean considered whether punching Death in the face and breaking his nose -or nasal cavity, rather, would mean immediate death for him. Nothing has happened. His brother turned into a freaking robot, Ellen and Jo sacrificed their lives, hundreds of people had been killed and there was a civil war in Heaven. Nothing at all, yeah. 

His anger must have been mirrored on his face because Death sighed and elaborated.

“What has already happened will be undone and remain only in your head. Like a dream.”

“And in your head, too, right? I mean, you can’t – or maybe you can, but don’t think you will – erase your own memory, so you in the past will know the future, right?”

“I exist in all times and in all places at the same time.” Of course, Death couldn’t just answer without being cryptic.

“Like Tralfamadorians?” 

“Vonnegut came very close to understanding the concept of time,” Dean could swear Death voice sounded warmer as if he was speaking about somebody he knew.

They sat in silence for some time. Death looked utterly content as if he was being served a fancy meal at a three-star Michelin restaurant, not sitting at Bobby’s cluttered kitchen table eating a hot dog and drinking cheap beer from a plastic glass. Dean was trying to wrap his mind around Death’s suggestion, which even for him was a whole new level of crazy. But if Death wasn’t messing with him – and for some reason, Dean did trust Death – it looked like he had a chance to prevent a lot of shit from happening and to save Sam.

“So, you are giving me the chance to go back and fix everything, right?” Dean watched Death expectantly, and after he nodded, leaned back and demanded, “What’s the catch?”

“There’s no catch. You don’t seem to understand what you’ve signed up for,” Death sounded amused, “Adding a catch would be unfair.” 

Apparently, Death wasn’t optimistic about his chances to succeed, but Dean decided not to think about it. Death was about to give him a chance to fix the past, and he wasn’t turning it down. He just needed to clarify a couple of things, and if everything was not too bad he would be ready to go any second. He was too done with this life – especially after Sam had almost killed Bobby today. 

“And what will happen to this universe? To these people? Will they die?” 

“No. They’ll never exist.”

“Meaning they’ll die.”

Death sighed. 

“You’re going back in time. None of these exists there. What you know will exist only in your memory.”

“Okay. But what about the butterfly effect? I don’t want to screw up again just because I – I don’t know – order bacon to my eggs instead of sausages.”

That was definitely the question Death waited for. 

“Here comes the interesting part,” he said, leaning forward and looking directly into Dean’s eyes. “I’ll help to keep the sequence of events in order as long as you show that you really understood today’s lesson. Do not change what doesn’t want to be changed, Dean.” 

The last sentence was definitely a warning, if not a threat.

“Does not want to be changed?” repeated Dean, not quite sure what to make out of these words.

“Like in King’s 11/22/63.” 

“In a what?” 

“Oh,” Death furrowed his brow as if trying to focus on some elusive memory. “Never mind, he hasn’t written it yet.” 

“Okay. Whatever. I’ll try not to change anything that doesn’t want to be changed,” Dean promised, not completely sure he understood what exactly Death meant by all this.

“Good. Are you ready, then?”

“What? Right now?”

“This universe will cease to exist after you’re gone. Whatever you want to do – there’s no point.”

Dean wanted to protest, but then realized that Death was right. There was no point saying goodbye to anyone if they wouldn’t even have time to notice his absence – they would just spend their last minutes worrying about him. Well, except for Sam – Dean had no idea how this soulless robot that used to be his little brother would react, though he doubted that even the news about their universe collapsing would make him feel anything.

“Fair enough. To what point exactly will you throw me?”

“That’s a surprise. A pleasant one.” 

Dean was pretty sure it would be better if Death gave him heads-up on when and where he was going to pop out, but kept his opinion to himself. 

“Just don’t zap me to the moments when I am at the wheel or firing a gun, all right?”

It was like dreaming and being aware that you were sleeping. Dean saw a huge crowded hall, but the vision was blurred so he couldn’t recognize the place. He heard loudspeaker announcements, but again he couldn’t make out what exactly was said, and he was stressed out and knew that, for some reason, they must hurry up. Everything around him started to feel more and more real – he felt it when he bumped into people, felt the chemical smell of a floor cleaner as they ran past the janitor, felt the chill of the metal railing against his palm as they climbed up the stairs. Then he realized they were boarding a plane. 

_“What the hell?!”_ he tried to shout, but no sound escaped him.

He wanted to turn around and run away, but his body didn’t respond to the impulse – instead, his hand gave a stewardess his boarding pass and felt his facial muscles moving to fake a smile. It was another fifteen minutes until he regained full control of his body and realized that he wasn’t going to wake up in another place – sitting in a plane was the reality. At first, Dean panicked. Something must have gone horribly wrong – he hated flying, he never traveled by plane. He looked around and saw Sam in the next seat to him. A much younger Sam who still wore bangs. Dean stared at his face – he had forgotten how Sam used to look like with this haircut. 

And then he remembered why and where he was. 

“Holy shit. It worked,” gasped Dean loud enough for half the passengers to hear. He didn’t care – it’s not every day that you go six years back in time, he had every right to be emotional.

“Dean?” Sam sounded concerned. Like for real concerned, not just using “I am supposed to be worried” tone like soulless Sam did. 

“I mean, we’ve just taken off. The engine worked,” Dean answered, smiling like an idiot and trying to contain hysterical laughter. 

Sam – _and God, had he really looked that young in the past? how could anyone in their right mind have believed they were from the FBI?_ – Sam looked as if he regretted having brought Dean on board. He managed to look concerned, sympathetic, and slightly suspicious, all at the same time. It was such a nice contrast to robot Sam from his future that Dean grinned and almost hugged his brother, but checked himself.

“Dean, the plane has four engines. And it can fly perfectly well even with three of them out of order. Calm down.”

Oh, that was comforting. The idea of a plane losing three engines made his blood run cold. That’s ridiculous. He had literally been to Hell and prevented the Apocalypse, why was he still afraid of flying?

“So. There’s some kind of ritual to exorcise a demon, right?” Well, as far as Dean remembered, there must have been.  
“Yeah,” Sam flipped through the pages of dad’s journal. “Here. The first part sets the demon free. But the second part sends him back to Hell. For good.”

Dean chuckled at the words ‘for good’. Yeah, _for good_. How naïve they used to be. 

“So I guess he’ll be really pissed off after we finish the first part,” Dean still remembered how helpless and horrified he felt in a huge falling metal box. No narrow escapes this time.

“Well, yeah. But if we perform the second part fast enough-”

“Sam. Once we free this thing, it’ll just toss dad’s journal to the other end of the plane and we’re doomed. Learn this shit by heart. We still have about half an hour before this huge metal coffin crashes, so I hope you’ll learn it in ten, college boy.”

“Right. Then you learn it, too, because it could knock one of us out. But since you’ve never had to cram for exams, I'll be kind and you only need to learn the second part, jerk.”

Dean pretended to be memorizing the ritual, although everything related to exorcising had already been seared into his brain, thanks to tons of practice after all those sons of bitches had busted out from Hell.He thought things would be easier if air companies painted devil traps in the aisles and in front of the cockpit. And perhaps they should bless all the water, too.

This time everything went smoothly. Dean didn’t give the demon a chance to mention Jessica, so Sam was in a good mood. Everything was put down to some serious turbulence. The stewardess who had survived the previous plane crash brought them miniature bottles of whiskey. Dean was thrilled. He even thought he was happy – but he wasn’t sure because he forgot what being happy felt like. 

After they landed, Sam bought him a pie at the airport café and Dean was so touched that he actually hugged Sam. Sam was clearly confused – Dean had never been a touchy-feely kind of person. He didn’t question him, however, and Dean was grateful because he wouldn’t be able to explain. What could he say? Nice to see not-soulless you? 

They were sitting in a cafe waiting for the return flight. Sam was surfing the net, finally able to stretch his long legs comfortably. Dean was exhilarated. Nothing had happened yet. Holy shit, they hadn’t even died yet. Everything around him seemed so bright and colorful, he was looking around and taking in all the details and he couldn’t help grinning.  
Dean desperately wanted to discuss everything with Sam. To tell him all the things he had managed to pull off. He bet 22-year-old Sam would be impressed. 

_HEY, SAM, YOU KNOW WHAT, I’M FROM FUTURE FROM 2010 CAN YOU IMAGINE THAT  
HEY, SAM, I KNOW EVERYTHING THAT WILL HAPPEN TO US IN THE NEXT 6 YEARS  
HEY, SAM, ANGELS EXIST  
HEY, SAM, CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT WE PREVENTED THE APOCALYPSE  
HEY, SAM, WE HAVE A HALF-BROTHER BY THE WAY  
HEY, SAM, YOU BEAT LUCIFER, I’M SO PROUD OF YOU  
HEY, SAM, I SAT AT BOBBY’S AT THE SAME TABLE WITH DEATH HIMSELF AND WE ATE HOT DOGS_

But he couldn’t make a sound. He didn’t want to bring up all the shit they had been through. In this world, Sam deserved to live his relatively carefree life for a little longer. So Dean was just staring at Sam, giggling occasionally, imagining what young Sam’s reaction would have been to some of the crazy stuff that had happened to them in the future. He still couldn’t believe he had just successfully gone back in time six years. 

“You’re in a good mood,” Sam noticed when he couldn’t pretend to ignore Dean’s strange behavior any longer.

“We’re alive and kicking. What else do you need to be happy?” And that’s the truth, though Sam couldn’t know how much Dean really meant by this and what he had been through that he had learned to appreciate the fact that they both were alive. Sam eyed him suspiciously but didn’t ask anything, so he probably put it down to stress.

Dean took advantage of the free time on their way back and tried to extract some useful memories and typed some notes on his phone. He quickly became frustrated because he could hardly remember anything relevant. He was positive that dad wasn’t going to show up for at least three months. And before that, they had worked a bunch of cases and had had monsters to kill. And he couldn’t remember anything. Fuck. His mind continued to show him memories of recent events – fairies, that creepy parallel universe with Misha and alpaca, turning into a vampire, that truth curse, but that all didn’t matter now. If he played his cards right, all these things wouldn’t happen at all.

Damnit. What had they been doing six years ago? It was so strange to imagine the world without the Apocalypse, Horsemen, Lucifer. Holy shit, they didn’t even know that angels existed – and he felt like he had known this forever. After several hours of racking his brains, he managed to remember something that might be relevant. Well, at least he was sure that it all happened before Sam died for the first time. So he typed “electrocution”, “Lawrence”, “burn the tree”, “Meg”, “the colt, vampires”, “Gordon”. He could only hope that he would remember more in the process of solving cases. 

Dean looked at his brother, who apparently had no aerophobia and was napping now. Sam didn’t know about the nature of his visions. Had he seen them already? He didn’t know about Azazel’s blood in him. He didn’t know that he was supposed to be Lucifer’s vessel. Dean knew he wouldn’t be able to keep that secret forever, but he had no idea how he was supposed to break this news to Sam. The scale of what he had got himself into began to dawn on him. He had just voluntarily signed up for preventing the Apocalypse for the second time. Dean knew his own life was already screwed – there was no way he could distance himself from his old universe and pretend it was just a dream. But at least he had a chance to make Sam’s life better. And to save more people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I hope you're intrigued :)  
> Dean's memories of the events from six years ago are vague, but he'll do his best, I promise. 
> 
> I'm also nervous bc as you've probably noticed English is my second language, so let me know if something is wrong. I'm a geek when it comes to languages, so you're welcome to correct my grammar or clumsy wording.
> 
> Comments are very very appreciated
> 
> P.S. I know that Sam wasn't soulless in "The French Mistake", so Dean isn't supposed to remember that, but I love this episode too much so I decided to give him these memories. Btw, I'd really like to watch this episode with soulless Sam xd


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very grateful to [AlexFlex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexFlex/pseuds/AlexFlex) for proofreading and making my writing more natural.

“I had them check the FBI's Missing Persons Data Bank. Nothing. I even ran his plates for traffic violations.” 

“What? Whose plates?” Dean asked absent-mindedly. He had finally found something in the newspaper that rang a bell and now he was scrutinizing the article trying to remember more details.

“Dad’s.”

 _Shit_. Dean kept forgetting they were supposed to be looking for Dad. In the last five years, he had got used to the fact that he was dead, so it was weird to realize that the man was alive – unavailable, somewhere far away, but alive. Dean was glad he wasn’t going to show up any time soon – it was already hard enough having to watch every word and try to act normal when Sam was around, which meant all the time. He didn’t know how to face Dad – how to face the man who once used to be an infallible authority on everything. But it had been six years. Dean had been through Hell and Heaven, faced more shit than Dad could ever imagine, he knew things Dad didn’t, and, to be honest, was a better hunter. The thought of meeting him made Dean uncomfortable. 

“Sam, let’s face it. We have zero chance of finding Dad unless he wants us to. And it looks like he doesn’t,” he shrugged but made a point not to sound annoyed. He remembered how much Sam’s frustration over Dad’s decisions had irritated him in the past. But now that he knew what was going on and didn’t have to worry about Dad, he might as well be more supportive of his brother.

“So what? Are we going to hunt and do salt and burns waiting for him to turn up on our doorstep? Or you think we’ll just somehow stumble upon the thing that killed Mom and Jess? He left you that message and vanished. I don’t understand what’s going on, man.”

“Trust me, I have questions and I want answers, too.” It was true. He’d never had the chance to ask what Dad knew about Sam – did this “save or kill” bullshit have to do with Sam being Lucifer’s vessel or demon blood? Had he known about Azazel’s plans? Did he remember anything about Mom’s deal? 

Sam sighed. “Have you found anything?”

“Yeah. The guy’s eyeballs kinda exploded. The official version claims it was a stroke. Have you ever heard of people losing eyes because of a heart attack?”

“Never.”

“Exactly. Looks like our kind of gig.” _Especially because Dean clearly remembered bleeding from his eyes and smashing mirrors._

They did the usual routine – visited the morgue and talked to the family because Dean couldn’t just take Sam to that antique shop, summon Mary and smash the mirror without explaining how he knew about all that. And he had no clue about the connection between Mary and that exact mirror or why Mary had killed the guy if he hadn’t been the one who had summoned her. But well, they’d somehow figured out everything in the past, so nothing to worry about, right?

“I really hope no one else will try to test the legend while we’re wading through public records,” muttered Sam at the sight of computers that were out of order. 

Dean cursed under his breath. “I bet they will,” he answered, thinking hard. Now he remembered. There had been another victim. A blonde, if his memory didn’t fail him.

“Do you think we can somehow warn them not to say Bl- you know what?”

“Without looking like freaks?” Sam shook his head. “If we warn them, they’ll be even more likely to say it, just for fun.”

“Shit. There must be a way.”

“C’me on. The kids are scared out of their minds and adults hopefully have more important things to do.”

But Dean wasn’t listening. They hadn't been fast enough in the past, but they would have to be now. They didn’t have much time and they clearly wouldn’t make it in time without cheating. But damn it, he was here to save people. He couldn’t afford to fail his first hunt. He concentrated hard, trying to get something more specific out of his memory, but nothing useful came out. That didn’t leave him with many options. He could watch over – hook up with – the girl to make sure she wouldn’t do anything stupid. But this plan had a flaw – there were two blonde girls and Dean honestly didn’t remember which of them had been killed. He thought of smashing all mirrors in the houses but quickly dismissed the idea – all reflective surfaces counted, and Sam would definitely get suspicious as soon as he found out. 

So, the only way was to get rid of Mary, which meant he had to act on his own.

“You look like shit. Did you sleep at all?” asked Sam the next morning, holding two coffees as he entered the motel room.

“Morning. ‘m fine.”

“Dude, seriously. Your eyes are-“

“Sam, I’m fine. My eyes are fine too,” grunted Dean, getting up.

Well, as fine as one’s eyes could be after a pissed off ghost had tried to scratch them out. Yesterday he had waited until his brother fell asleep, praying that his sleep would last for the two hours he needed to drive to the antique store and do away with Mary. 

Hunting alone was never a good idea. Even if it was just a run-of-the-mill ghost. Even if you knew exactly what to expect. Mary had turned out to be a stubborn bitch and wouldn’t appear in the right mirror, and he could hardly see her because his eyes had been bleeding. His head had hurt like hell and Dean had been seriously afraid that he would lose his eyesight when he had finally caught a glimpse of her in the fancy rectangle mirror. 

He had destroyed all the evidence – cleaned the shards of glass from the car, hidden bloodstained shirt, tiptoed to the bathroom to wash his face. There was nothing he could do about the scratches on his palms, but hunters never had baby-smooth skin, so, hopefully, Sam wouldn’t pay attention.

Mary was no longer a threat and that was what mattered. They could investigate the case further, establish the link between her and the mirror, and well, so what if they discover that the mirror had been smashed already? 

They spent the day in the library. Sam was clearly frustrated over their slow progress; Dean pretended to be committed to the case, though the only thing he was doing was trying to dig up memories about their next hunt. That was incredibly annoying – even when he managed to recall something that had happened long ago (meaning before Lucifer was freed), he couldn’t place it on the timescale. He was sure that some things – like that hunt in the hotel with Jo or lazer-eyes-shapeshifter – had happened before he went to Hell because there was no sign of Cas and other angels. But “before Hell” lasted four years, so he had to be more specific or he would screw up. Damn it. He ended up adding several new phrases to his notes on the phone – _“psychiatric clinic”, “prison” “werewolf girl” “the abused kid, telekinesis”_. He probably needed his own journal, because typing on the phone with such a small screen was annoying, but the last time he bought notebooks was when he was in high school. Sam would definitely notice. 

“Yes, we did have this mirror, but two days ago some bastards broke in and smashed everything.” 

_What a ‘surprise’._

“What?” Sam gasped.

“I’m telling you, I came here in the morning to find all the mirrors shattered. But I think you’ll find something similar, that mirror wasn’t too special.”

“Yeah, sure, thanks for help,” Dean headed to the exit, but Sam didn’t move. He was staring thoughtfully at the corner where the mirrors had been. That was bad. “Sam, let’s go.”

“Hold on,” he waved him off. “Sir, do you think it was a burglary? Did they take anything?” Sam slipped into “talking to witnesses” mode, which meant he definitely suspected something. _Shit._

“No, I don’t think so. There was some blood on glass shatters, so I hope to convince the police to run DNA-tests, but they’re a bunch of lazy idiots and-”

“Did the alarm go off? Are there any street cameras?” _Oh shit. Shit. Anything but that. Please, say there are no cameras._

But of course, there were. And the alarm was _‘expertly deactivated’_ , which made matters worse. Damn it. Was it so hard to believe it was just a burglary?

“So, looks like whoever broke into did our job,” Dean concluded cheerfully, still hoping Sam would just let it go.

Sam frowned. “Do you really think that’s what happened?” 

“What else, Sam? You don’t think somebody went there to kill Bloody Mary, do you?

“Don’t say her name! And we can’t be sure smashing the mirror is enough. You should probably summon her, just to make sure. And since the mirror is destroyed, she could be anywhere, Dean, anywhere! Damn it,” Sam ran his hand through his hair in exasperation.

“Sam, relax. We can try to summon her. If we call her and she doesn’t appear, our job here is done.”

“And if she appears, Dean? You will smash all reflective surfaces around you before we figure out how to destroy her now that she isn’t anchored to her mirror any longer?”

Sam was reasonable. Under normal circumstances, Dean would completely agree with him. But Sam didn’t know that Dean he was now talking with was from the future and had taken certain steps to improve this universe.

“Look, I think I’m going to get the police to see if I can get the tapes” Sam offered finally.

“What? No!” Dean’s mind was racing as he tried to come up with something to calm down his brother. 

“Why? We need to know what happened.”

“Some burglars broke into and smashed mirrors, that’s what happened, Sam,” Dean snapped. The thought of Sam finding out what really had happened threw him into a mild panic. He wasn’t ready for the conversation that would inevitably ensue. He just wasn’t. 

“They didn’t take anything.”

“So? Maybe they were just drunk,” offered Dean.

“Sober enough to deactivate the alarm system. I’ll go talk to the police. You keep an eye on the family.”

_Crap. He was screwed._

Dean was on edge. If Sam got the tapes, there was no way he could explain himself without telling the truth. And he wasn’t ready. His memory was a mess. He didn’t even know where to start. _Look, Sam, you lost your soul after the Apocalypse, so I went six years back in time to prevent all this shit? Sam would just drive him to the nearest mental hospital._

The door burst open and Sam entered. Dean looked up, trying to read his brother’s face. He looked very pissed.

“Electricity in the building was cut off,” he explained.

“Awesome,” Dean exclaimed, trying not to sound relieved. Looked like luck was on his side. Or Death, more likely.

“I’m going tomorrow morning again,” Sam continued. _Damn it, Sam, just let it go already._

“Man, c’me on. Just let me summon the bitch and-

“-and there’ll be another heart attack with exploding eyeballs. And we established that she comes only for the ones who had secrets where people died. So you can’t summon her.” Dean had enough dark secrets for dozens of Mary’s visits, but Sam didn’t need to know about that yet.

“Okay, who can then?” 

Not that he didn’t know the answer. He knew Sam blamed himself for Jess’s death – Dean wasn’t even sure that his brother had forgiven himself six years after that, in the universe he’d come from. He should probably do something about that though Dean preferred other ways to deal with problems rather than talking, and most of them included killing – quite literally – whatever caused the problem. 

“Me. But I’m not doing it until I get the tapes.”

 _Terrific._ Dean seriously considered stealing the tapes, but if Sam found out about that, they would be stuck in Toledo forever. 

“Why don’t we just drop it and hit the road?” he groaned.

Sam made a bitchface. “Do we have another hunt?”

“Not yet.” And Dean was actually worried because he couldn’t even remember what their next hunt was supposed to be. 

_Where the hell was Death with his promise to keep the sequence of events?_

Sam wasn’t the only one who had nightmares now. Dean was still haunted by Hell and he doubted these memories would ever fade away. When he awoke in the middle of the night, disoriented, and saw Sam sitting on the edge of the bed watching TV with the sound off, Dean felt a surge of panic. He almost thought that the whole time travel thing was a weird dream and he was stuck again with his soulless brother who didn’t need to sleep. Then he remembered that Sam had nightmares about Jess. 

“Sammy?” Dean called, his voice hoarse from sleep. 

“Oh shit,” Sam hastily turned off the TV, “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake-“

“You didn’t. You’re not the only one entitled to have nightmares.”

“You said the job didn’t get to you.”

“It wasn’t about hunting.” 

“What was it about, then?”

Dean wanted to laugh it off or say it was nothing, but Sam wouldn’t open up then. So, the truth it was. After all, out of context, it could pass for just a weird dream.

“Hell,” admitted Dean. “At least, my subconscious is sure it’s Hell,” added he, realizing that he sounded too certain given they didn’t know Hell existed.

“Like nine circles of Hell with Satan?” Dean chuckled. Old good times when their knowledge about Hell was so delightfully inaccurate. He decided not to enlighten Sam about Lucifer’s exact whereabouts, dreaming about Hell was already weird enough. 

“Nah. More like a huge boiling hot torture chamber with a rack and demons.” _And with Alistair as a tormentor and a coach._ Nightmares about the latter were less painful physically, but there were no words to describe how racked he was by guilt afterward.

“And the demons… They torture you?”

“Yeah,” he hesitated before adding, “and sometimes I become a demon and torture others”. It was dark, so he couldn’t see Sam’s reaction. He wasn’t sure he wanted to see. Sam thought they were talking about a nightmare, but Dean knew they were talking about reality.

“You mean, demons possess you?” _Dean wished he had this excuse._

“No, it’s not like that. And anyway, we can’t be possessed, we have-” Dean checked his chest. Even in the dark, he could see clear skin with no sign of ink. Shit. They hadn’t got anti-possession tattoos yet. 

“Never mind. It was not a possession. It was kinda me going to the dark side.” _He should have done better than that. Dad had lasted for more than a century. He had given up after only three decades. Pathetic._

Sam stared at him, unsure what to say. “Weird, man. Why would you dream of Hell at all?”

“Dunno. My subconscious is being a bitch.”

They sat in silence for some time.

“I still have nightmares about Jess,” sighed Sam, barely audible.

“Does she try to kill you to get revenge or something?” Dean decided to go for the most absurd question to make Sam talk.

“No. She asks ‘why, Sam?’. And then she’s burning.”

“What do you tell her?”

“Nothing. I usually wake up,” Sam paused, staring into space. “I shouldn’t have got close to her.”

“Yeah and how could you know about that? Jess was the only person outside our social circle you got close to.” Dean suddenly realized that was true. The only normal person his brother had got to know had been killed by a monster. No wonder Sam was so depressed. “Sam, you couldn’t have known.”

“Yeah. I know. It’s just… Never mind,” he shook his head. But Dean already knew what bothered his brother so much.

“Sam, even if you somehow knew in advance, Aza- that thing wanted her dead. And it was powerful. You couldn’t do anything.”

“Yeah. Maybe you’re right,” Sam answered in a hollow voice.

Dean tried to go back to sleep, but without the tattoo, he felt exposed. Vulnerable. Naked. 

_He and Sam were easy targets for any demon._

But demons were rare now.

_Even one single demon could cause enough trouble or even kill them._

But they didn’t come across any demons in his universe until Meg showed up.

_Yeah, and where was the guarantee everything would be the same this time?_

But Death promised-

_Who said Death was trustworthy?_

He couldn’t make his inner paranoid voice shut up, not after having a nightmare, and had to give in.

“I’ll be right back,” he muttered, going into the freezing night heading to the parking lot. It wasn’t healthy to let paranoia dictate his actions, but wearing an anti-possession charm wouldn’t hurt, right?

“Here. Put this on,” he tossed to Sam a small pendant on a leather string. 

“Is it an anti-possession charm?” Sam gave him a quizzical look.

“Yeah. Just in case,” Dean shrugged, trying not to make a big deal of it. So what if he decided to grab anti-possession charms from the car in the middle of the night?

“Does it have to do with your nightmare?” his brother frowned.

“Better safe than sorry.”

“Dean, Hell isn’t real.” 

Dean snorted. Sam had a lot to learn.

“And the last demonic possession we heard of happened years ago.”

“Do you want to be possessed next time it happens?” he snapped and winced – it wasn’t Sam’s fault he didn’t know what was coming. “Sam, it’s 3 a.m. I’m tired, man. Just put the damn thing on and let’s get some sleep.”

Dean lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. He felt as if he hadn't quite managed to get his point about Jess across. He really wished he was better at the touchy-feely stuff. He didn’t know what to say when rational arguments weren’t enough. He tried to put himself in Sam’s place. What would he want to hear? Nothing. He used to shut up Sam every time he tried to mention Ellen and Jo. And Pam had been killed because of their stupid idea – he felt slightly better after seeing her in Heaven, though. 

Heaven.

Of course.

“Sam. You’re asleep?” 

His brother muttered something intelligible.

“You know what’s Heaven like?” started Dean, hoping he wouldn’t scare Sam with these weird conversations in the middle of the night. “It’s where you relive the best moments of your life. Or the moments that matter most to you. You just enjoy the afterlife, there’re no more problems or fears or worries. You’re surrounded by things you like. It’s almost like you’re in a hallucination created by a Djinn, except for it’s real.”

He paused, but Sam was silent.

“I'm sure Jessica is in Heaven now. And she relives whatever moments she had with you because you were an awesome boyfriend. I bet you really made her happy.”

Silence stretched. Sam didn’t say anything and Dean started to think that mentioning Heaven had been a stupid idea and he’d just made everything worse. _He and his clumsy attempts to comfort people._

“She made me happy, too,” his brother finally said in a choked voice.

Dean paused, thinking of what to say to that. “I'm sorry she’s gone. I met her only once, but she seemed good for you. Sam, trust me, she’s happy now. She’ll always be.” 

There must have been something earnest about how Dean said these words that made Sam believe him. 

“How do you know that?” asked Sam hoarsely.

Dean chuckled softly. “I’m older. I know things.” 

Luckily, Sam didn’t have a chance to go to the police again.

“Dean, I got a message from a friend from Stanford,” Sam showed him his phone screen. “I think it might be our case. Her brother killed his girlfriend, but I met the guy, he can’t have done that.”

 _Holy shit. Shapeshifter._ That case he remembered – seeing his own dead body with a hole in the head was weird. He read the message from Sam’s phone again and noticed something he hadn’t noticed before.

He started laughing. “Sammy, did you seriously sign in as ‘lawboy’? Really? _Lawboy?_ ” 

“What’s wrong with that?” Sam got defensive, apparently embarrassed. “You think saltandburn would be better? Or monstersarereal?”

“Dunno, how about “badasshunter”?” Dean smirked. “Why didn’t you use your name like all normal people?”

“ _Normal people_ ,” Sam snorted. “Old habits die hard. I couldn’t get used to using my real name at first. Just felt wrong.”

Dean could relate – he had had a year of normal life with Lisa and Ben. Everything was so strange at the beginning – he’d stayed in one place, used his real name, met with the same people, had legal credit cards and even a salary and thousands of other details, like buying kitchen soap or washing powder. It had taken him some time to adjust.

“Huh. Did you keep salt under your bed?” Dean wondered because that was exactly what he had done while living with Lisa. 

Sam laughed. “Yeah. My roommates thought I was mental.” 

“Could be worse if you painted devil's traps at the entrance,” Dean remembered the stunned expression on Lisa’s face when she had seen him painting her floor. But she was an amazing woman and after a moment of silence all she had said was “whatever makes you feel comfortable”. Ben had been assured it was just a fashionable design solution.

“Devil's traps?” Sam sounded surprised. 

_Oh shit._ They weren’t supposed to know about them yet.

“Yeah. I’ll show you someday. Let’s hit the road.”

Dean was thinking. The shapeshifter had taken his form and “downloaded” his memory. He had even fooled Sam, though his brother had noticed something fishy about his behavior. The shapeshifter would find out whatever plan he would devise now the second he took his body. Yet it was important for him to “die”, because innocent people shouldn’t end up in jail and because that would throw the FBI off the trail. Sam had almost shot him last time – and if anyone would notice a fake, it would be Sam. So, he just needed something that would give Sam absolute certainty. 

“Sam, if the guy didn’t kill his girlfriend, we might be dealing with his evil twin. A shapeshifter, probably.” _Probably, yeah._

“Yeah. I just thought the same thing.”

“Shapeshifters are tricky sons of bitches. They can take our form if we’re not careful enough. If you suspect something, if I act weird – shoot to kill. Right in the heart. You got me?” Dean shot Sam a look to see his reaction.

For soulless Sam something like that would go without saying – he would be surprised Dean decided to voice this at all. His 22-years-old brother, however, clearly didn’t like the idea. 

“And if I’m mistaken?”

“You won’t be.”

“Dean, if there’s so much as one percent probability that I shoot you-” protested Sam, shaking his head.

“You won’t. I trust you on that. You know me better than anybody. If anybody can notice something is wrong with me, it’s you. Shoot to kill, Sammy.”

Sam hesitated. “Will you shoot fake me?”

Dean wanted to lie, but he couldn’t. He didn’t want Sam to think that he was able to murder his twin. Of course, he wouldn’t. He hadn’t hurt Sam’s body when it had been occupied by Lucifer or when he had been soulless. He just couldn’t make himself. It went against all his instincts.

“Okay, fine. Don’t promise me anything,” groaned Dean. “But if you see fake me, you know what to do.” He gave his brother a meaningful look.

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

They came to the conclusion that the shapeshifter hid in the sewers _(as if they could have arrived at any other conclusion)_ and went searching. As soon as they split up, Dean took off his amulet and put it in his sock. There was a chance the shapeshifter wouldn’t notice it was missing – Dean had become so used to walking without the amulet for the last year that at first its weight on his chest and the leather string around his neck felt unfamiliar. Sometimes he almost forgot to put it back on after taking a shower. 

Right now he could only wait and hope that Sam’s skills of observation wouldn’t fail him and he would have the guts to shoot at what looked just like his big brother. 

After several hours of sitting tied up in the sewerage, Dean started to worry.  
At first, the idea had seemed genius. Now he realized it was absurdly risky. There was no guarantee that the shapeshifter would come back to Sam. And if the shapeshifter knew the future, he also knew about Sam being Lucifer’s vessel. And while having all Dean’s memories, it didn’t have his feelings, his soul so it could probably decide to kill his brother for the greater good. Fuck.

“Dean? Dean! Thank god you’re alive!” Relief washed over him when he heard Sam’s voice and hurried footsteps. His brother beat that son of a bitch. On his own. Dean smiled proudly. 

“I thought I killed you,” rambled Sam, cutting the ropes. “And then I thought I’d never find you because he could drag you god knows where. You okay?”

“Peachy,” Dean put on the amulet. “Did you notice?” he asked, pointing at the pendant. 

“Yeah. I mean, I didn’t shoot just because you returned without it – you could’ve lost it. But you would‘ve noticed if you had lost it and you’d be pissed.”

Dean looked away in shame. He would never tell Sam that he had thrown his present in a motel trash can. _Never._

“And you acted weird,” added Sam, helping him to get up.

His heart missed a beat. No doubt somebody with memories of the future could act weird. “How weird?”

“Dunno, you just stared at me like I had grown a second head or something,” shrugged Sam.

Okay. Looked like the shapeshifter hadn’t had much chance to talk.

“You didn’t get rid of its body, did you?”

“No, why?”

“Good. I’m writing a suicide note. Dean Winchester killed – what was that girl’s name? - and then decided to take his life away. So your friend’s brother will be released soon.”

“Your luck I shot point-blank. If the cops are dumb enough, they’ll buy it.”

The cops, of course, bought it. Death kept his promise. Dean hoped he wasn’t too tired of covering up for him.

It took one look at the Reverend’s daughter’s silver cross and the memories came flooding back. Dean relaxed for the first time in weeks. The hunt was going to be easy, just a simple salt-an-burn. He made sure it was Sam who dug up the grave and burnt the remains, while he burnt all the silver, including the cross he’d stolen from the unsuspecting girl.

What he hadn't expected though was that they would run into Lori at the gas station the next morning. And of course, it didn’t escape Sam’s attention that she looked upset.

“Oh, it’s nothing. It’s just– I lost the cross Dad had given to me. It’s not expensive, but it’s old and was made of church silver, so it just means a lot to me.”

Sam paled as the realization dawned on him. Dean cursed in his head.

“Dean, we have to go back.”

_Shit._

“Sam, c’me on, it’s just a small cross. How much does it weigh compared to the hook that can slash people’s throats?”

“You know perfectly well that ghosts don’t care. As long as there’s something at all left, they’ll continue to haunt people.”

So, they spent three more days looking for the cross. Sam checked all local pawn shops and ran out of ideas, but refused to leave the town. The fact that Dean couldn’t find another hunt wasn’t helping at all.

“It reminds me of what happened to the mirrors in Toledo,” muttered Sam.

Dean was incredulous. “Dude, don’t tell me you plan to return there to get the damn tapes.”

“No. I’ve been keeping an eye on the area, there were no similar murders, so I guess it’s okay.”

_Had Sam ever forgotten anything?_

“You go to Missouri, I’m sure you two psychics will get along just fine,” Dean waved Sam off, determined to stay within a safe distance from the woman who could literally read people’s thoughts. He wished he had asked Death to make a wall in his head to protect his knowledge.

When Sam saw the vision of some supernatural shit happening in their old house Dean was both relieved and worried. On the one hand, the sequence of events seemed to remain the same, that was reassuring. On the other hand, Sam’s visions reminded him about his addiction to demon blood, the Apocalypse, and Dean felt like he was running out of time, even though he had roughly four years before the start of the Apocalypse. He desperately wanted to come out to Sam and finally discuss everything with him. Keeping everything and not being able to share was becoming harder every day. His knowledge turned into a mounting burden. But he still had no idea how to start a conversation about this with Sam. He dreaded the prospect of answering Sam’s questions – and knowing his brother, there would be plenty, he would ask exactly about things Dean would rather never talk and he wouldn’t back down until he got all the answers.

He stayed away from Missouri, talked briefly to Dad’s colleagues, and pretended to be very busy till evening when he knew they were going to put hex bags inside the walls. He used this time to rack his brain to try and remember more about the upcoming events – he had a feeling that soon they would hear from Dad. He also tried to recall how exactly they had got the Colt because he would definitely need it, and the more bullets there were the better. But all he managed to remember was that they found the Colt after its owner had been killed by vampires. That was very unfortunate – several precious bullets were wasted on creatures you could kill just by ripping their heads off. 

When Dad sent them coordinates, Sam exploded with anger.

“Let’s get it straight. We haven’t heard from him for half a year. We didn’t even know if he was alive. And the first message in six months we get are the coordinates. _Fucking coordinates_ , Dean. _For a fucking hunt._ ”

Dean used to hate these conversations before. He had always felt the urge to defend Dad, but at the same time, he was afraid that defending Dad too much would push Sam away. He hated taking sides. He hated being torn between two people who meant everything to him. So, he either avoided talking about Dad at all or tried to finish the conversation as soon as it started. Now that he knew the future, he became less emotional about that. 

“Sam, I get it, you have the right to be pissed. You dropped everything to find Dad and hunt down the yello- the thing that killed Jess, and we’re not making any progress.”

No reaction. Sam was fuming, glaring at the phone in Dean’s hands as if he wanted to throw it against the wall.

“Look, don’t think of it as Dad’s order. Maybe he thinks we need some practice before we can help him with whatever he’s up to now. Or he thinks we’re just bored,” he attempted to joke.

“Oh yeah, I’m dying of boredom. Killing shapeshifters and wendigos is such a mundane job that even tax accountants have more fun,” seethed Sam. “I wonder what he’s doing now anyway.” 

Dean shrugged. He’d never had the chance to ask. “Tracking down that thing, I guess. Maybe he stumbled on some lead, so he left us the message, thinking that we’d be safer together and away from him.”

When he came to think of it, it sounded reasonable. Maybe Dad had captured a demon who’d let something slip about Azazel’s plan. And Dad was probably working on other cases of demonic possessions, trying to get more information. _“We all are in danger”_ – that was something he wouldn’t say without having enough evidence.

“He didn’t tell you to fetch me,” noticed Sam.

Dean rolled his eyes. “He didn’t need to. Damn it, Sam, in a situation like this I would’ve come even if he’d forbidden me to.”

Sam started packing the duffel reluctantly. “Maybe if we drop this case he’ll be pissed off enough to show up in person to chew us out for disobedience?” 

Dean forced a laugh. He knew what almost certainly would draw Dad to them – the news about Sam’s visions. But Sam hadn’t started seeing them, and Dean wasn’t going to tell Dad anyway. The fact that Dad had seriously suggested that he should kill his brother still bugged him. How could Dad seriously think he would be able to murder his little brother after years of taking care of him? After watching out for Sammy had become what defined him? If he failed to save his brother he would be more likely to kill himself.

“Sam, c’me on. It’s not about obeying his orders. It’s-“

“Yeah, yeah, saving people, the family business,” Sam rolled his eyes.

Dad’s call caught him off guard. And it definitely was too much for Sam, who apparently was determined to hitchhike to California. He stopped the car on the empty road, it was dark and they were surrounded by forest. What kind of brother had he been to have allowed Sam to leave in the past?

“Sam, we’re not having this conversation in the middle of fucking nowhere at night. Let’s find a gas station at least,” he said, trying to win some time and pull his thoughts together.

“There was one twenty miles back,” Sam suggested, probably thinking that Dean wouldn’t agree to drive back.

“Awesome.”

They drove in silence. Sam was boiling with anger. Dean was thinking hard. Maybe it was time to tell Sam the truth. Keeping his story in secret was becoming more difficult and more dangerous. Sam deserved answers – the answers that dad wouldn’t give. And well, keeping secrets from each other had caused enough problems back in the universe he’d come from. He might as well learn from mistakes.

“So. You wanted to talk,” Sam reminded him, killing the ignition.

Well, the gas station wasn’t exactly a perfect place to start the whole “I’m-from-the-future” conversation. But right now he needed to talk Sam out of going to California. “I’m-from-the-future” thing could wait till tomorrow when they found a motel. 

“Sam, California is a two-day drive from here,” Dean started nervously. “By the time we get there, Dad could be anywhere.”

Sam gave him a bitchface. “I know, Dean.” 

“So, you realize that even if we go there, we won’t find him?” He emphasized the word “we”, hoping that Sam would understand that Dean was on his side and soften.

“At least we’ll be looking for him.”

“Sam, going to California will be a waste of time.”

“It’s not about being rational. It’s about doing what I think is right. I dropped everything to find dad. I’m done waiting, Dean.” Sam had the same determined look about him that reminded Dean of the times his brother had argued with Dad about Stanford.

Damn it. This conversation wasn’t getting them anywhere. Dean saw there was no way he could convince his brother to stay if he’d already decided everything for himself. The kid was stubborn – had always been. Dean hesitated.  
“Sam, do you remember those mirrors in Toledo? And that I warned you about the shapeshifter? And the cross the girl had lost?”

Sam frowned, confused. “Yeah, and what does it have to do-”

Dean felt like he was about to jump into ice-cold water. He braced himself.

“I’m from the future,” he blurted out. 

He suppressed the urge to squeeze his eyes shut. _Real smooth, Dean._ Said aloud, the words sounded even crazier than he’d imagined. 

To his surprise, Sam just burst into laughter.

“Very funny, Dean. Look, I’m going to California, you do whatever – hunt, hook up with someone-”

“You won’t find Dad. But I’m here. And believe me, I know more than Dad does. A lot more.” Dean’s mind was racing. If Sam didn’t believe him, he was screwed. 

Sam gave him a scrutinizing look. “Dean, if it’s some kind of ruse to distract me-“

“I’m from November 2010,” interrupted Dean, hoping that details would make the whole thing appear more plausible. Sam, however, looked worried.

“Still not funny, man.”

“I know what killed Mom and Jess,” continued Dean, his voice shaking. “And I know how to kill it.” 

Sam stared at him in horror. Dean’s heart was in his mouth. He did it. He told the truth. There was no going back.  
“Wait. You really think you’re from the future,” Sam’s voice dropped to whisper.

“Damn it, Sam. I don’t think, I really am.” For the last weeks, Dean had been freaking out that Sam would somehow figure out that he was from the future that he’d never considered the possibility that his brother wouldn’t believe him at all. He was so sure that Sam would believe him – because seriously, who in their right mind would lie about time-traveling? – that he wasn’t prepared to prove that he was telling the truth.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” he asked weakly.

“Maybe you had visions about these things – the mirrors and the shapeshifter? Like the visions I had about Lawrence,” suggested Sam, obviously hoping that he was right.

“No. I’m from the future. I went six years back in time and now I’m here,” Dean gestured vaguely around himself.  
Sam examined him warily, his eyes darted to the backseat where they kept some weaponry. Dean rolled his eyes. “Go ahead, check me with a silver knife, holy water, or whatever. I’ll pass every test.”

To his surprise, Sam just started the car, pulled out, and sped along the road.

“Why don’t you grab some sleep while I drive us to Indiana?” his brother suggested nonchalantly.

That wasn’t quite the reaction Dean had expected. “I thought you were going to California.”

“I’m not leaving you in such a state,” Sam sounded seriously alarmed.

“Shit, Sam, I’m not a psycho, I-“

“You just need some rest,” Sam cut him off. “We’ve been hunting too much lately.” 

_Terrific._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Dean and Sam are going to have a looong conversation in the next chapter. (Spoiler: no, Dean won't tell Sam everything at once). And I'm going to cover the episode "Faith", too
> 
> By the way, Sam's email really is "lawboy", you can see it if you stop the episode at the right moment. It's just so adorable :)
> 
> Please let me know what you think. Is anyone out of character? Do you like the plot so far? 
> 
> Stay safe and take care :)
> 
> P.S. I hope I didn't screw up with tenses. My English classes didn't exactly prepare me to write time-travel fics lol


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone who's reading this work while it's still in progress. I really appreciate your support <3
> 
> Big thanks to my beta [AlexFlex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexFlex/pseuds/AlexFlex)!

Two hours passed in silence. Sam kept his eyes on the road, gripping the wheel tightly. Dean recovered from the initial shock of telling the truth and his brother’s reaction and now was thinking of how he was to fix this mess. He hadn’t planned to come clean like that. Ideally, they would have a day off between hunts and Dean thought he would just man up then and explain everything. 

Sam hadn't said anything so far, so Dean had no idea what was going on in the brain of his. The tension in the air could be cut with a knife. He needed to coax some reaction out of his brother to understand just how bad the situation was.

“How far are we from Indiana?” Dean probed. He had the map in his hands and knew exactly how far they were, but that was the only relatively safe question he managed to come up with.

Sam flinched slightly.

“About seven hours,” he answered without looking at him, tone perfectly even. Sam was freaked out but trying to bottle it up – probably so that he would not trigger Dean with his fear. 

“You want to drive all the time? I can change you if you’re tired,” offered Dean just like he would normally do.

“I’m good,” Sam cut off. His lips were pressed into a thin line now.

Of course. As if Sam would let him behind the wheel after everything he had said.

Okay. Obviously, they couldn’t just make small talk and pretend nothing had happened. On the plus side, they were traveling by car and that meant Sam _had to_ listen to whatever Dean was saying, he couldn’t walk away or shut him up.

“Our future sucks, by the way,” Dean said matter-of-factly. “Well, I guess it could’ve been worse.” He remembered his three-day trip to the Croatoan infected world in 2014. “But it still sucks.”

Nothing. Still no sign of emotion on Sam’s face. But his brother had always been curious. So, Dean just continued talking, hoping that at some point Sam wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation and pretend to be deaf any longer.

“In my universe we split up here. You went to California, I went hunting. I got into trouble and you hot-wired a car and got back just in time to save my sorry ass.”

Sam frowned. Dean thought his face became less blank and more pensive. That was a good sign, so he went on talking.

“We hunted another shapeshifter. The interesting part was that a civilian had done most of the job for us, can you imagine that? He had no clue about shapeshifters, of course, he thought he had tracked down some kind of laser-eyes android or whatever. He even guessed about the sewers, except that he thought the android recharged its batteries there.” Dean could swear he heard Sam chuckle at this. “Everything was fine until that stupid idiot decided to play hero and take it on by himself. He messed with our hunt and got killed by snipers.” Dean winced. It was absurdly unfair that the guy had lost his life like that.

Sam was still ignoring him. Well, that wouldn’t be easy, but he had six years of life experience to tell about. At some point, Sam’s curiosity would get the better of him. Dean racked his brain, trying to remember something Lucifer- and Apocalypse-free.

“We hunted in Hollywood once. They were filming a horror movie, which totally sucked, by the way. They inserted a real spell in the script, so the actors reading their lines actually summoned ghosts. I hooked up with the lead actress after we were done.”

Again, no reaction from Sam. But at least his brother didn’t look more freaked out than before. So, Dean continued this one-sided conversation. 

“Oh, I remember another one - it was hilarious. We had to infiltrate a mental hospital once,” he started laughing at the memories. “That was really funny. I mean, all we needed to be admitted was to tell the doc the truth. Man, you should’ve seen his face when we told him about hunting demons and monsters. It was priceless,” Dean grinned, remembering how the doc’s reaction. “I bet we were crazy even by their standards. They diagnosed us both with schizophrenia,” Dean shot a glance at Sam and saw him smile for a second. Then his brother composed himself and his face went blank again. 

“Hey. Say something already, dude.”

Sam opened his mouth, but apparently, he wasn’t able to put whatever he wanted to say into words. He took a deep breath, shaking his head. Sam glanced at him for a second, and then was back watching the road. 

Dean made the last attempt to get his brother talking. 

“We have a half-brother, by the way,” he said, enjoying the immediate effect this news had on Sam.

“What? It’s- Wait- How?” Sam gaped, dropping all pretense.

“Yeah. Dad was hunting ghouls in Minnesota, got injured, and well, he and the nurse-“ Dean trailed off. “He’s Adam. Adam Milligan. Must be around fifteen now.” 

“Impossible,” Sam said firmly, shaking his head. “Dad spent most time with us. And he never let it slip or mentioned anything about Minnesota.”

“He didn’t know until Adam was twelve. So, they first met around three years ago. Dad didn’t tell him anything about hunting, so the kid has no idea about monsters and stuff, lives a normal life and studies pre-med. Or wants to study rather, it’s too early now.”

“It’s very easy to verify, you know that, right?” Sam shot him a look, checking his reaction. 

“Go ahead,” Dean shrugged. “I think there’re even some notes about Minnesota in Dad’s journal. They went to baseball games a couple of times. Dad bought him his first beer on his fifteenth birthday. He even let him drive the Impala.” Dean remembered it had pissed him off in the past, but he also remembered the kid had appreciated the beauty of his baby.

“How did we meet?” Sam asked after a long pause.

“He called Dad’s phone. I took the call, so, that’s how we found out we had a brother.” 

_Well, technically it was a ghoul calling, but that was how they found out about their half-brother, so it wasn’t a lie, right?_

“I bet that was an awkward family reunion,” Sam laughed nervously. 

Dean didn’t comment on that. Sam was probably imagining they had some kind of normal family get-together, where everyone felt embarrassed. He didn’t want to ruin this by telling that the first time they met real Adam was after he’d been brought back from the dead to become Michael’s vessel and was fetched to Bobby’s place by an angel of the Lord.

Silence stretched. Dean didn’t know what else to say. He couldn’t give Sam any immediate proof anyway, so Sam could declare everything he’d said a figment of his imagination.

“Sam. I trusted you when you said you had visions, right? Can you trust me now?”

Sam sighed. Doubt was written all over his face, but he looked less tense.

Dean went on. “I know how it all sounds, man. I get it. You either think it’s not me or I’m possessed, or I’m nuts.”

“You wear an anti-possession charm and it’s made of silver, so I'm almost sure it’s you,” Sam admitted and added, choosing words carefully. “And I believe _that you believe_ you’re from the future.”

“But you don’t think-

“There’s not much evidence that time-travel is possible. No evidence at all, actually. And our job is kinda mentally demanding-“ Sam trailed off. 

“So you think I’ve gone nuts. Fantastic, Sam.”

“I’m not saying that. Maybe it’s just a single psychotic episode and you just need to get more sleep and take a couple days off-”

“Damn it, Sam, I’m not crazy,” Dean growled in frustration. “And I need you to believe me. So that we can act together. And if you can’t believe in time-travel, well, it’s shit because all other things that happen to us and that I want to fix will sound way crazier than me coming back in time six years”.

Sam took a deep breath and remained silent for some time. Dean was fuming. He had no idea how to prove his story to his brother. Well, he remembered their next hunt pretty well, he was sure he could even find the damn tree in that orchard, but it would be nice if Sam stopped thinking he’d gone nuts right now.

“Dean, I need some proof,” Sam said finally.

“I am the proof. I know what will happen, just wait till it comes true and you’ll see for yourself. I can tell you about this hunt. It’s some pagan sacrifice crap, we’ll need to burn the tree.”

Sam looked confused. Well, that probably didn’t make much sense to him now.

Sam sighed. “Okay. Suppose – _just suppose_ – you’re from 2010. It’s 5 years from now. You said you know a lot about the past. So. Anything you know that I already know but present you aren’t supposed to know?”

Dean processed the question. Some kind of secret that future Sam told him about his past would do – if only he would be able to remember it.

“Um, my memory is kinda a mess. You try to remember what you were doing six years ago and you’ll see what I’m talking about.”

“We still have six hours till we’re in Indiana, so you’d better remember. If it’s a psychotic breakdown, no way I let you anywhere near the guns.”

“Fair enough.”

They were halfway to Indiana when Dean finally managed to dig up some memories that would probably convince Sam. His head was spinning. He definitely needed his own journal.

“Sam? I think I got something. Remember your time in Flagstaff? When you ran away. There was a dog there. You called it Bones. I don’t think you’ve told me about this. He was kinda rusty in color. And there’s another one,” he continued hastily before Sam could cut in and say that this wasn’t enough to convince him. “It’s from our schooldays. Do you remember the school when we spent around two weeks?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Which one exactly?”

“I hooked up with the hottest chick there. She was blonde.”

“As if it narrows down the list.”

“Oh, c’me on. It was my final year, so you were fourteen and it was right after summer. You put some bully in his place there.”

“Okay,” Sam sounded confused. “So?”

“I don’t know any details, but there was a teacher that was very important to you. I mean, we returned there for a hunt and you really wanted to talk to him. And no, I have no idea about what or what his name was.”

“I understand what you’re talking about. And you’re right about the dog,” Sam answered thoughtfully and gave Dean a scrutinizing look. 

“And there’s one more thing. Sorry to bring it up, but- You and Jessica, you were- It was serious. You were shopping for rings.” 

Sam drew a sharp breath.

“How did you know that? I mean, I wasn’t going to mention this to anyone. Ever.”

“You didn’t. It’s the thing that – the demon that killed Jess.”

“What? You talked to it? And how did it find out about that?”

“I guess he’d been sort of spying on you before he attacked. We had a nice chat while he attempted to kill us.”

“Did we manage to kill it?”

“Yeah,” answered Dean with far more reluctance that Sam could understand.

“And?” Sam demanded, eager for more details. Dean didn’t like where this conversation was going.

“And what? So, now that I said we killed that thing you do believe that I’m from the future?”

“I don’t know, Dean. That’s just… Well- It’s still crazy, man. Even for us.” _Wait till you know about the Apocalypse, thought Dean._

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

“How long have you been here? And why did you choose this time?”

“I didn’t have much choice, just knew it would be at least two years back. I’ve been here since we killed that demon on the plane.”

“So, for about four months? Wow. Huh. Wait. It was you who broke the mirrors,” Sam glared at him.

“Guilty. And I stole and burnt the girl’s cross. I needed to do something or there would’ve been more victims.” 

Dean was watching Sam out of the corner of his eye, waiting for a cascade of questions that he was sure would soon follow. 

“When did we kill this thing – you said it was a demon?” Sam asked finally. 

“Sam, it doesn’t mean we’ll kill it at the same time now.” Sam wasn’t stupid. If he found out that they were hunting four years after killing Azazel-

“Dean. The way Dad keeps us in the dark? It drives me mad. If you want to do the same thing- Just-“ Sam stuttered, frustrated.

Dean sighed, giving up. “In my universe we killed it in a year and a half from now.”

Sam was clearly disappointed. He probably still hoped to be at Stanford next year. Well, if Dean didn’t screw up, this time his brother might get his law degree.

“But maybe we’ll manage to kill it earlier,” he continued. “We had several chances in the past, but we missed them.” He tried not to think about the fact that the closest they were to killing Azazel was when he possessed their Dad. 

“I thought you’d have more questions,” Dean said cautiously after Sam remained silent for almost ten minutes.

“I’ll verify what you said about Adam first. And we’ll see if your information about the hunt matches.”

Well, at least he had some time before the interrogation began.

The information about Adam was right – not that Dean doubted that, but Sam stopped questioning his sanity which was good. He hesitantly suggested that they should call or visit their half-brother, but Dean dismissed the idea.

“Yeah, and what would we tell him? About hunting monsters or one of our fake biographies?” _Well, they would have to tell Adam about monsters before he was eaten by ghouls, but that could still wait._

They finished the hunt early, so they were a couple of days ahead of ‘schedule’, which meant that his brother had more time to think. Dean realized Sam would soon start asking questions – dangerous questions he didn’t want to answer yet. So he started babbling about the future every time Sam’s expression turned brooding and he looked like he was about to say something like ‘Dean, we need to talk’.

“You know, this thing saved my life once,” Dean said, fiddling with a small salt packet. They were sitting at the diner waiting for the food.

Sam raised an eyebrow.

“Were you attacked by some kind of minuscule ghost?”

“No. I was in a solitary cell and it was the only weapon I had against the nurse’s spirit.”

“Don’t tell me you were imprisoned for real.”

“No, we had to infiltrate a prison to hunt inside, so we let ourselves be imprisoned.”

“But this is insane,” Sam stared at him in disbelief.

“It was my plan and future you didn’t like it either. During mealtimes you looked like you were about to throw up.”

Sam grimaced. “We’re definitely doing it in another way this time.”

“No problem, it was a standard salt and burn anyway. That was fun, though,” Dean grinned. “I won several packs of cigarettes in poker.” 

The next day they went to the tattoo shop where they got ink anti-possession tattoos on their chests. Sam wondered why Dad hadn’t made them get these earlier, and Dean shrugged in answer. In their universe they had got the tattoos after Azazel possessed their Dad and had nearly killed them. Sam was frowning, probably wondering why Dean was so obsessed with protection from demons. 

“Sam, now listen carefully. Very important information learned by future me. I’m sharing my wisdom in the hope that you won’t have to learn it the hard way.” 

Sam eyed him with skepticism.

“Fairies like cream,” declared Dean solemnly. “To catch a fairy you need to spill salt, and it won’t stop until it counts every grain. And a microwave is a pain the ass to clean if you accidentally fry a fairy in it,” he struggled to keep a straight face.

“You’re kidding me. Were there no other monsters left or what? I mean, seriously, fairies? ”

“Never underestimate your enemy, Sammy,” Dean deadpanned.

Sam's patience didn’t last long. When Dean once again tried to joke instead of answering Sam’s question about how he had managed to go back in time ( _“built a time machine at Bobby’s”_ ) his brother lost his temper. _Why can’t Dean just tell him everything? Why is he always the one who is kept in the dark about everything? Why everyone tried to make decisions for him? Why is he the one who needs to be protected?_

“Has it ever occurred to you that it’s not all about protecting you?” Dean yelled. “That I just don’t want to relive all this shit again? That it hurts like Hell – and I know what I’m talking about – to remember all this?”

“I guess it’ll hurt even more to relive it for real again,” Sam snapped, eyes blazing with anger.

“Damn it, Sam. You died in my arms. I saw you dying, do you understand? I was with you as you were slowly losing consciousness until you weren’t there anymore, until you were just a body. A dead body. And I carried you inside some house and I sat there still hoping that by some miracle you’d come around and get up and we would just get into the car and drive the hell out of there,” Dean sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm down. Sam looked horrified, all signs of anger gone.

“And the worst thing was that I almost saved you that day. Almost. Me and Bobby, we finally found that place with psychic kids, came there, I saw you and you were just ten feet away when that son of a bitch stabbed you. And I couldn’t do anything. I was late,” Dean swallowed a lump in his throat. Sam wouldn’t die this time. He wouldn’t let it happen.

“You said before that we were both alive in your time,” Sam said cautiously.

“Don’t be stupid. I’m your big brother. Of course, I brought you back.”

Sam didn’t ask how and Dean was grateful for that. Next morning his brother just brought him several notebooks, highlighters (god, _highlighters_ ) and a waterproof zip lock bag. 

“Okay, so you don’t want to tell me now – but you’ll have to eventually – but you need to write it down before you forget.”

Dean muttered a thank you, painted a devil trap on the zip lock bag and put salt inside.

“Sam, don’t forget, there’s a puddle in the basement.”

“Dean, there’s really no need to repeat it for the _hundredth_ time.”

It was like having a nightmare where you try to run away from a monster but you’re always too slow. Dean tried everything to change the course of events so that they wouldn’t need to go to that house at all, but nothing seemed to work. He couldn’t reach the kids’ parents on the phone, and when he tried to call the police there was suddenly no reception. Despite everything he did they were going to end up in that house. It felt like the universe resisted being changed. And Death had warned him that something like that could happen. Shit.

Dean was nervous. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

“Look, I take the tasers. You help the kids. I swear I won’t step in the puddle,” Sam reassured him.

But Dean was sure some shit was about to happen.

He got the kids out of the house and hurried back downstairs. Sam was indeed within a safe distance from the puddle, but too close to the rawhead. Next moment Sam tripped over, the rawhead got its hands on the taser and aimed at his brother. Dean lunged forward.

 _Shit. Here we go again._  
That was his first thought when he came round in hospital. He had failed to avoid this electrocution crap. He’d done his damnest best, tried everything, and yet here he was in the ward, weak and with his head spinning. He had planned that the healer and his wife would be their next hunt. He definitely hadn’t plan going there as a terminal patient. Damn. Death must be laughing his ass off at his naiveté. _Hope you have enough popcorn, dude._

“Dean? I talked to the doctor and- We somehow figured it out in the past, didn’t we?” Sam’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “I mean, you wouldn’t have lived for five years if- The doc said-“

Dean sighed. “Yeah. We figured it out.” He’d been so busy trying to prevent this that he’d forgot to tell Sam about how he’d been cured in his universe.

“Great,” Sam exhaled, apparently relieved. “What should we-“

“Sam. Would you kill a stranger to save my life?” Dean asked without much preamble. Sam paled. 

“Is it the only option?” he finally managed to ask.

Dean looked away.

“Dean?”

“I don’t know. Maybe there’s another way. But I’m not sure it’ll work. And it’ll be a drastic divergence from the course of the events,” Dean sighed, and decided to try to explain. “We had a friend. He had healing powers. So I could sort of call him now.” _Pray to him, actually._ “And if he’s available and not too busy, maybe he’ll come and help. But I’m not sure. He was kinda a dick when we first met.” _He’d almost wiped out the whole town and made me torture Alistair._ “And I don’t know if he has healing abilities already.” When he came to think of it, the first time Cas healed him was right after Sam had jumped into the Cage.

“Dean, that doesn’t sound promising.”

“So it’s better to be healed at the cost of another person’s life?”

“I’m not saying this,” Sam ran his hand through hair. “It’s weird, man. I mean, you did everything differently now, right?”

“Yeah. I was warned, though. That I shouldn’t change what doesn’t want to be changed. Natural order and stuff.”

Sam frowned. “Then maybe we should do what we did in your universe? Not that I like it. But looks like it’s important.”

“Looks like Death is an ass,” Dean muttered.

Dean tried not to think about what would happen if the healer didn’t choose him. Death had promised him to keep the sequence of the events in order. So, maybe that was exactly what he was doing. Maybe it was really necessary to be healed at the cost of somebody’s life. And there was no sense to throw him back in time just to let him die like that, without really preventing anything. Right?

The idea of being healed at someone’s expense still made him sick. But he couldn’t come up with anything else. And even if he could – he still remembered what happened after he had refused to kill that girl. So, he’d have to suck it up and let another guy die for him.

“Why me? Out of all the sick people, why save me?” 

They were sitting at the guest room in Roy’s house. For them this visit was an excuse to look around and find the altar because Dean had no idea where it was.

“Well, like I said before, the Lord guides me. I looked into your heart, and you just stood out from all the rest.” 

“What did you see?” 

“A man with an important purpose. A job to do.” Dean stared at him, unable to hide his shock. These words didn’t make much sense the first time he heard them, but now… Was it possible? Could Roy really mean what Dean thought he meant? 

“I’ve never seen a soul like yours before,” Roy continued. “Bright, despite everything. And old. Much older than you are.”

Dean’s mouth went dry. Sam leaned forward, watching Roy closely.

“How much older? Like five or six years?” his brother asked.

“I bet more like forty-five,” Dean croaked. Sam looked at him suspiciously. He knew he’d just added one more thing to the list of his brother’s questions. 

“Yes. Do you feel it too, son?”

Dean forced a laugh. “I feel like a very old man sometimes, especially when my joints crunch.”

“Do you remember what our next hunt was?” Sam asked on their way back. 

“No idea,” Dean wasn’t in the mood to talk.

“Dean, what’s done is done. It must’ve been important or you could’ve changed it.”

“It’s a convenient excuse, huh?”

“What do you mean?”

“First time we went there, we didn’t know how this healing worked. Now we go there ‘cause it’s ‘the natural order’ or whatever. I just wonder – what if we didn’t have these excuses? What if we knew how healing worked and I wasn’t from the future? What then?”

He knew what soulless Sam would say - that his life was worth more because he could save more people. And it’s okay to sacrifice one guy to save hundreds of people. No big deal. Nothing to worry about. However, 22-year old Sam stayed silent. Dean thought he was going to ignore the question when his brother finally answered. 

“I wouldn’t let you die, Dean,” Sam said quietly. “There’s nothing that can justify taking life from one person to give it to another. Even in your case. But I’d do the same thing even if I knew everything. Because I don’t know what I would do if you were dead. So yeah. You’re alive because somebody else is dead. I can live with that.”

“Sam? I’d do the same thing,” Dean answered awkwardly.

“You already did, didn’t you?” Sam gave him a quizzical look. “When I died. You found somebody else who used a binding spell on the reaper?”

“No. And anyway, binding a reaper won’t help if you’re already dead.”

Sam didn’t question him further, but Dean could tell his patience was wearing thin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so I kinda struggled with this chapter so let me know what you think
> 
> also if you want to suggest some ideas or discuss the plot you're very welcome (bc I still haven't decided on some turning points), leave comments or feel free dm me on twitter @tiredstarrover
> 
> By the way, the boys are meeting Max (poor kid with telekinesis abilities) in the next chapter. Any ideas what they'll do?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [AlexFlex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexFlex/pseuds/AlexFlex) for betaing this chapter <3

“Finally,” Dean shuddered as they left Cassie's home. “I can't believe we’ve just spent the whole afternoon on this. Could’ve already burnt the damn truck and moved on.”

He’d clean forgotten about Cassie and this hunt. It had taken him quite a while to figure out who the hell had been calling and why some girl knew about their family business. Sam found it hilarious and was howling with laughter by the end of the conversation. Cassie sounded somewhat offended – she’d probably thought Dean would remember her for longer than that. 

What had surprised Dean was that Sam had insisted on going to her place to talk to her.

“Still don’t get why you wanted so badly to see my ex who even I barely remembered,” muttered Dean.

“Why not?” Sam shrugged, smiling mischievously. “The me from your universe had seen her, so it would be unfair if I didn’t. And I want to be on the same page as you, so I need to have the memories the me from your universe had.”

“Hope you’re satisfied.” Frankly, Dean would rather not meet Cassie at all. It felt really weird to see her after everything he’d been through. Reviving such distant memories reminded him just of how much ahead of his time he was, how much shit he was supposed to prevent. 

Dean vaguely remembered the awkwardness of their meeting back in his universe and that it’d hurt to see her. A huge contrast to the emptiness and mild annoyance at her attempts to flirt he felt now.

“She’s got an attitude. I see why you liked her,” Sam watched him expectantly.

“Uh-huh.”

“Who ditched who?”

“She didn’t believe I hunted ghosts. Thought I was trying to dump her by making this up.”

“Really? She called you now, though. Apparently, she hadn’t even deleted your number.”

“Well, people are only atheistic until the plane starts to crash.”

“I take it you don’t want to fix your relationship?” _Was Sam trying to play matchmaker all this time?_

“God no. It wasn’t even a relationship. No regrets. Any ideas how to burn the truck? I‘m sure as hell don’t want to race against it again.”

Sam had grown comfortable with Dean being from the future. Dean felt more at ease, too. He carried around the notebooks Sam had given to him – one was for hunting, the other for everything Apocalypse-related. He scribbled down his memories whenever they came back to him. It was usually just a couple of words, just enough for him to form an association with a particular case but which wouldn’t make sense to anyone else. 

His brother had given up asking specific questions – though he was getting more and more annoyed that Dean wouldn’t answer – and changed tactics, asking more general questions instead, probably hoping Dean would let something slip.  
Sam was flipping through the copybook as they were driving – the one with hunts, Dean had forbidden him to touch the other. 

“Who’s Gordon? And why did you circle his name in red several times?”

“A hunter. And a son of a bitch.” 

“How specific. And Bela Talbot? Another ex?”

“Hell no,” Dean paused, doing some mental math. “But speaking of her, do you think a fifteen-year-old girl could kill parents to inherit their fortune?”

“That’s gross,” Sam grimaced. “But she wouldn’t be able to use the money until she’s eighteen anyway. Why – did she –”

“Yeah, she already did. But we’re not going to meet her any time soon,” Dean pulled over. “I think the truck is somewhere here.”

“Dean? Dean, wake up,” Sam was shaking his shoulder. “How could you forget to warn me about this one?”

“What the hell?” Dean grunted, wincing at the bright light.

“I’ve just seen another vision. A man suffocates in the garage. Rings a bell?” Sam was pacing around the room, already packing the duffel.

Dean groaned, getting up reluctantly and trying to pull his thoughts together. “Damn it. I didn’t think that would happen so soon.”

“Do you remember what are we dealing with?”

_Oh, it’s just another psychic kid from Azazel’s army._

“Sam? We won’t make it in time. We arrived like two hours after his death. And it took us about two hours to get there. So, I guess you’ve just seen a live stream,” he attempted a joking tone.

“We gotta try anyway. Maybe this time it’ll be different. I won’t be able to sleep anyway today.”

“Yeah, me neither,” agreed Dean grimly.

He had no idea what to do with this case. He had been thinking about it before, but couldn’t come up with anything that didn’t involve killing the kid. For once, he wished he was hunting with the soulless version of his brother – he wouldn’t have blinked at the suggestion to kill this guy.

“So, what are we dealing with?” asked Sam again when Dean started the car and pulled out of the parking lot.

Dean considered the question for a moment. He didn’t want to tell Sam that his and the kid’s powers were of the same origin, but he couldn’t completely leave out telekinesis either. 

“It’s a human. A son of the man who you’ve just seen. He has telekinetic powers and he has decided to take revenge on his family for being abused.”

“And how did we tackle this?” Sam asked apprehensively, probably guessing from the dark look on Dean’s face that they hadn’t been particularly successful.

“The kid ended up blowing his head off with my gun, that’s how. It was after he’d killed his uncle, attempted to stick a knife in his mother’s eye socket and almost shot me,” he hoped that sounded horrible enough to make Sam less sympathetic with the kid.

Sam whistled. “What do you think we should do now?”

Dean threw him a glum look and remained silent for some time.

“I doubt you’ll like my plan,” he finally answered, watching the realization dawn on his brother. 

“What – wait – you can’t be serious,” Sam protested. “We can’t just kill him. There must be another way.” 

“Sam, he has _already_ killed with his powers. And there’s no guarantee that in the future he won’t kill the next person who crosses him.”

“We need to talk to him, then. We’ll explain that killing his family isn’t a solution.”

“Yeah, last time you told him he shot himself,” sneered Dean. He really wanted Max out of the picture. He would do his damnedest to prevent that psychic kids survival show, but if he failed – well, having a mentally unstable guy with such power as a rival didn’t bode well for Sam.

“Look, if the kid had some harmless ability like your visions or I don’t know – super hearing or x-ray vision – I would agree with you. But it’s telekinesis, Sam. _Fucking telekinesis._ You can’t do anything against his will and yet he can snap your neck just with his mind power.”

Sam chewed his bottom lip, thinking. Apparently, the danger of the situation started to sink in, though Dean doubted his brother would give up easily. 

“We won’t force him to do anything, then. We’ll try to persuade him to seek help. He can go to a therapist or something.”

Dean sighed heavily. “Sam, that’s not gonna work.”

“We can’t just ice him. He’s a human, Dean. We’ll prevent these murders and try to talk to him.”

Dean shook his head in exasperation. “You do realize you wouldn’t be able even to defend yourself? It’s like fighting against a demon except that neither holy water nor devil traps will work, so actually it’s even harder.”

“For the last time, Dean. We aren’t killing him.”

“Uh-huh. Tell me when you see the window chopping off his uncle’s head,” Dean gave him a dirty look.

Sam cringed but didn’t answer.

“So, how did the appointment go, Dr. Frehley? Found a way to talk the kid out of massacring his family?”

Sam’s face was dark with anger.

“You thought I wouldn’t find out,” he accused, slamming the door behind himself.

“Find out about what?” Dean stiffened, already knowing the answer. His heart leaped into his throat. Sam wouldn’t back down this time. He’d have to tell everything.

“Max. His mother died in a fire when he was six months old. And guess what? She was _pinned to the ceiling.”_

Dean tried to fake a surprise.

“Don’t even try to pretend we didn’t know about that in your universe,” fumed Sam.

“Fine. We did. So? Did you manage to convince Max that wasting his relatives is a bad idea or what?”

“Don’t change the topic, Dean.”

“Sam, we really don’t have much time before the kid goes after his uncle.”

“You know what? I've been thinking that maybe I should have gone to California. Maybe dad would give more answers than you,” he said bitterly.

“Sam, man…”

“Our mom died in exactly the same way. And we both have abilities. And we’re not the only ones. There’re more kids like us, right? You mentioned it when you talked about my death.”

Dean nodded slowly, covering his face with his hands.

“Dean, you gotta tell me what’s going on. These visions – man, it’s not normal, they scare the hell out of me. And people aren’t supposed to have telekinetic powers. And the fact you refuse to talk about it – it freaks me out even more,” Sam paused, waiting for an answer.

“Something really horrible must have happened four years from now. I need to know what. You said yourself we need to act together to fix it,” he pressed on when Dean didn’t respond.

“I know what’s going on,” Dean said dumbly. He had no idea how to start a conversation like this. He had talked about the Apocalypse with Lisa, but that time he had left out most of the details, giving just a general picture.

“I don’t even know where to start, man. It’ll sound insane anyway,” he admitted, laughing mirthlessly.

“Why did you come back in time? Why do I have visions? Why are there other kids like me?”

“Fine,” Dean cleared his throat. “I came back here because I didn’t like the price we’d have to pay to prevent the Apocalypse,” he paused, chuckling at Sam’s face expression. “And I wish the word ‘Apocalypse’ was a figure of speech, but it’s not.”

“The Apocalypse. Like, the Biblical one?” Dean was thankful Sam chose not to question his sanity again.

“Yeah, with Four Horsemen and shit. Beating Horsemen wasn’t that difficult actually – you just cut off their fingers with rings and they lose their powers,” he explained, making a point of sounding like they were discussing the weather. If he had to talk about all this crap again, he might as well have some fun.

“And these Horsemen are War, Hunger, Pestilence and… Death. Holy shit, _Death?”_

“Yep. Death was the easiest one, in fact. He gave me his ring voluntarily – he didn’t like being Lucifer’s bitch. He likes fast food, by the way – I mean, Death likes it. Lucifer prefers demon blood.”

“ _Lucifer?_ Dean, I swear if it’s some kind of joke – ”

“Yeah, Lucifer the Satan. He started the Apocalypse after you had freed him from the Cage. Well, it wasn’t your intention, but it happened so that you freed him. Long story. Don’t beat yourself up for that – it was you who threw him back in the Cage and stopped the whole thing, so you kinda made it up for everything.”

Sam looked dumbfounded. 

“Um. Dean? Maybe you can start from the beginning? What you say doesn’t make sense to me now, to put it mildly.”

“Sure. No problem,” Dean let out a shaky laugh. “Our mom was a hunter, Azazel killed her parents and our dad, so she made a deal to bring him back in return for letting Azazel in the house ten years later. We’re named after our grandparents, by the way. Deanna and Samuel Campbell.” 

Sam opened and closed several times, thoroughly confused. Dean wondered what shocked him more – the looming Apocalypse or the fact that their mom was a hunter? 

“Wait. I’m taking notes and color-coding. You could at least try to tell all this in chronological order. Right now, it sounds like you’re delirious.”

“Are you all right?” Dean asked after he had told about everything – Hell, Heaven, angels, addiction to demon blood, Ruby, Lucifer. He couldn’t bring himself to enlighten Sam that they were vessels, so in his story, Sam had got pulled into the Cage after pushing Lucifer there. 

“At least it all makes sense now,” Sam answered, looking at the notes as if they were we the instructions on how to make an atomic bomb. “Not knowing was worse. You told me we visited Heaven. How did we get there at all?

“Other hunters shot us for starting the Apocalypse.”

“They killed us? And how come we were alive later?”

“Um. Well. I guess angels brought us back.”

“Why?”

“To fight the Apocalypse.”

“Oh, yeah, because two humans were such an asset to angels with their powers? The truth, Dean.”

“Fine,” Dean gave up, “We’re vessels. Lucifer’s and archangel Michael’s.”

“I take it I’m the vessel of Satan,” Sam concluded matter-of-factly.

“Yeah. Well, Michael’s a dick, too, if it makes you feel any better.”

Sam let out a nervous laugh. 

“So, how did I beat Lucifer if I’m his vessel?”

“You got control over your body and jumped into the Cage with Lucifer trapped inside you. You dragged Michael into the Cage, too.”

Sam frowned. “But Michael – you’re his vessel?”

“Yeah. But I didn’t say yes, so he got Adam. They just needed someone with Winchester’s blood.”

“I threw Lucifer in the Cage,” repeated Sam slowly as if he couldn’t believe in it.

“Yeah. You did it when nobody thought it was possible. I’m proud of you.” It still hurt Dean that he hadn’t had a chance to tell this to his brother back there.

“What did you do after everything was over?”

“I went to Lisa. I had nowhere else to go. You were dead, and your dying wish was that I have a normal life, so I went there and tried to settle down. I tried to enjoy this apple-pie life, you know, golf, barbeques, occasional beers with neighbors. But the pain never went away,” Dean lowered his eyes, studying the floor. “Not a single day went by that I didn’t remember something from the past and realized again that you were dead – even worse, you were in Hell - and I would never see or talk to you again.” 

He sighed heavily, “I don’t know how Lisa put up with this.”

“I don’t know how you lived through all this, man. The world seems so normal now. I can’t imagine how – ” Sam trailed off, shaking his head. “Do you have a plan?”

“The general idea is to kill Lilith before she breaks the seals so that Lucifer stays in the Cage forever. I don’t see what we can do about the Apocalypse right now, though. The Gates are closed. Lilith is in Hell. The seals are safe. Nothing is going on.”

Sam furrowed his brow, looking doubtful. “Hmph. I’ll need time to digest this.”

“Sure. But getting back to our time - Max’s still going to massacre his family.”

“I talked to him, Dean. Give the kid a chance.”

“Wait! Wait. Mr. Miller! You can’t go in there.”

They barely made it in time, but since Roger didn’t know them as priests, he would probably stop to talk to them.

“What the hell? Who are you?”

“Mr. Miller, I’m afraid you can’t go in. We’re from the National Gas Emergency Service,” Sam flashed his fake ID. “There’s a gas leak in one of the apartments.”

“A gas leak?” he raised eyebrows. “Why don’t I see the evacuation going on?”

“It’s about to start, we’re just…”

“Waiting for our colleagues, they’re on their way,” Dean waved towards the road.

“Mr. Miller, it’ll probably take long to make sure the area is safe, you might need to rent a motel room for a day.”

_Until we persuade your nephew not to kill you._

“I think I’ll wait here, thanks,” Roger snapped, putting his groceries on the ground and leaning back on the hood of his car.

The next thing they knew, the car hit the building wall with a nasty sound of crushing bones. It happened so fast that Mr. Miller didn’t even let out a scream. 

“What the fuck?” Sam gasped, watching a puddle of blood around the car growing. “The engine wasn’t even running.”  
“We’re getting out of here. Now,” Dean nudged him, looking around nervously. Max must be somewhere nearby, probably watching them. Dean felt exposed as if they were at gunpoint. He hoped Max wouldn’t decide to get rid of the witnesses for good measure.

“So, you still want to talk to the kid again? To explain to him that he needs a shrink?” Dean asked as they entered their motel room. 

“I tried in your universe, didn’t I?” Sam said wearily.

“Yeah, and a bullet missed my head by two inches only because you somehow managed to move a closet with the power of your mind. You want to bet on that again?”

“Not really,” Sam admitted. “I should’ve listened to you earlier. Roger would be alive.” 

Sam looked so guilty that Dean bit back ‘I-told-you-so’. “You meant well,” he said instead, giving a half shrug.

“Yeah, and look what came out of that.”

Dean remembered making the same mistakes and he couldn’t really blame his brother for trying to do the right thing.

“There were two times in my life when I refused to kill one person to save others. I tried to find a way to save everybody. It didn’t end up well. But I know I did what I thought was right at the time. Sometimes it’s not the body count that matters.”

Dean pocketed the car keys and headed outside.

“I’ll take care of Max. You go through your notes again. Prepare questions, ask everything you want to know. No more secrets, I swear.”

Sam was glued to his laptop and notebooks for the next few days, constantly making notes and drawing schemes. Occasionally he would ask questions that almost always perplexed Dean.

_Does the term “righteous man” refer specifically to you or it’s just a concept?_

_Why were there so many psychic kids if they ended up killing each other and I was the only vessel?_

_Why did Azazel root for me?_

_How long do you think it takes angels to find a soul in Hell?_

_Who in Heaven was against the Apocalypse?_

_What was Lilith doing before you went to Hell?_

_Why did that crossroad demon give you a year?_

_Why did Azazel wait a year before opening the gates of hell?_

Dean hadn’t given much thought to that before; he’d been too busy trying not to get killed. When he thought about the future, he tried to figure out how to kill Azazel and Lilith. So far, he couldn’t come up with anything. He didn’t want to wait till they face Azazel at the cemetery – last time he managed to kill him by sheer luck and it was too long to wait anyway. But what other chance did they have? Lilith was in Hell, so to kill her they needed first somehow set her free, and Dean didn’t like their prospects.

“Are you sure it’s important? I mean, we just need to kill Lilith and that’s it, the Apocalypse prevented.”

“Dean, this Apocalypse – it’s just politics in essence,” Sam answered with a maniac glint in his eyes. “It all comes down to politics. The decisions are already being made. Just give me more time to analyze all this. We need a strategy.”

“Sam, I swear I don’t remember what’s going on here,” repeated Dean, taking a swig of beer. “Let’s go back to the motel and see if something happens tomorrow.”

“I’ll wait for you at the parking lot. I need some fresh air.”

Sam left, staring at his notes as he walked. Sometimes Dean got the impression that for Sam preventing the Apocalypse was like an especially interesting assignment.

Dean watched the bubbles going up in his beer. He couldn’t remember anything, didn’t even get the déjà vu vibes as he talked to the kid about Godzilla movies. Maybe they hadn’t talked to the kid last time? But he was the only witness. And the area was marked in Dad’s journal, so they must have investigated this case.

He was heading to the restroom when the memories came flooding back.

_“Your county has its fair share of missing persons. Any of them come back?”_

_“My brother disappeared three years ago. A lot like Sam. We searched for him, but—nothing.”_

Dean stormed out of the bar, reaching for the gun and praying he wasn’t too late. He saw two men dragging Sam’s unconscious body to their truck. He took aim. He couldn’t risk shooting Sam, so he waited till they closed the truck doors. The angle wasn’t perfect, but Dean was sure he wouldn’t miss. Not with his experience. He pulled the trigger twice and two men dropped dead on the ground. Somebody inside the bar screamed. 

He carefully laid Sam on the backseat and drove out of the parking lot. They must get out of the town and probably change the plates. At least the street camera wasn’t directed at the bar entrance, so it didn’t capture him shooting. They might already have Henriksen on their asses, and Dean didn’t want to give him one more reason to track them.

“Dean?” Sam grunted, sitting up. “What the hell happened?” 

“I thought you could do without this particular experience this time. These bastards tried to kidnap you. They are responsible for other abductions, too. Sick puppies killed people for fun.”

“Did you kill them?”

“We killed them in my universe, too, so I don’t think that changes much. How come they jumped you?” He threw Sam a disapproving look through the rear mirror.

“I was thinking about the future. So, are we done with this hunt?

“Yeah. I wasted two of them, I think there’re two more left in their house. I’ve tipped off the cops, they’ll take care of them. What were you thinking about anyway?”

“It’s just – I don’t think we have much time, Dean.” 

“Time for what?”

“To prevent the Apocalypse. The first seal. It’s when the Apocalypse really starts, not when Lucifer rises. I mean, they can’t do anything unless the first seal is broken. And to break it, they need a righteous soul in Hell. Either yours or Dad’s. So we have either several months or – “ 

“- or two years,” Dean finished, suddenly feeling nauseous. 

“One year, Dean. It’s when you sold your soul. And to get a soul, they need either you or Dad to make a deal. So, when time comes, they’ll start trying _to make_ you make the deal by killing one of us.”

_Fuck._

“I remember these murders. It’s Meg. Look, we didn’t prevent anything there in my universe, just almost got ourselves killed. So maybe there’s no point in going to Chicago at all?” 

“Yeah, but she stopped killing people only because we showed up. If we don’t, she’ll continue.”

Dean considered how this could affect the future – the one he was building now.

“You said she blackmailed Dad, so he went to meet her to give her a fake colt and ended up being possessed and then all that crap happened and he made a deal,” Sam flipped through his notes. “So, if we exorcise her now, none of this will happen, right?”

“None of this – yeah. But some other shit will happen. _Unpredictable_ shit, Sam.” Dean rubbed the bridge of his nose. “We can deal with her, but on our own. We’re definitely not dragging Dad into this.”

“Are you going to tell Dad you’re from the future?

“No. I think we’ll manage by ourselves.”

“But we’re preventing his death, aren’t we?” 

“I dread to think what kind of ripple effect that would cause,” he admitted.

Sam looked at him in disbelief. “Are you going to let him die because of the ripple effect? The whole point of your time travel is to fix everything.”

“I’m not saying I’ll let him die. I'm just saying it can turn all my knowledge into nothing. And you know Dad. What do you think his reaction would be once he found out you’re Satan’s meatsuit?”

Sam’s face darkened.

“You know what his last words were? That I had to kill you if I fail to save you. And he didn’t even know the whole truth at that point.”

“Well, we can explain to him it’s no use killing me because I’ll be brought back anyway?” Sam smiled weakly.

“We’re not telling him anything. And keep your mouth shut about the visions. No one must know. No one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments make me happy, so let me know what you think and feel free to speculate about what will happen next :)  
> Love you all, thanks for your support <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [AlexFlex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexFlex/pseuds/AlexFlex) for proofreading!

“I can’t believe it. We just exorcised a demon!” Sam whispered excitedly. “Azazel’s daughter. In a bar full of people. And nobody even noticed.” Sam looked around the bar, where unsuspecting people were having a perfectly normal Friday evening. 

Dean took a swig of beer, chuckling. He had let his brother do most of the job himself to get a taste of hunting demons. Sam had done really well – and Dean couldn’t help feeling proud, because, after all, it was him who had taught his brother everything he knew about demons – and after hunting them on daily basis for three years, he knew a lot.

“You think we should go back and wash off the devil trap from the ceiling in the WC?” Sam asked, grinning. 

“Nah. The worst thing that can happen – another son of a bitch will get caught. Don’t see the problem,” Dean snorted.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Of course, how could I forget everyone knows what to do with a demon stuck in a devil trap.”

“Go back and paint your number near the trap, if you’re so worried. _In case of emergency, call Demon Control Service,_ ” Dean tried to joke. He still felt uneasy about exorcising Meg so early, even though it seemed the right thing to do. 

Sam picked up on his mood. “Speaking of worried. You don’t look relieved. Still thinking about the ripple effect?” 

“Yeah, but not only that. I’m starting to think we’ve screwed up here,” Dean admitted, scrutinizing the wood patterns of the table.

Sam looked at him, perplexed. “How? Everything went smoothly. She didn’t even have a chance to fight back.”

“Exactly,” Dean held up his index finger. “Now imagine how it all must’ve looked for her. We just walked in a bar, caught and exorcized her. As if we knew she was there and we knew what she looked like. And the devil trap was obviously painted in advance.”

Sam was thoughtful for some time. Dean took another gulp of beer. 

“So you think she might suspect something?”

“Not the truth anyway. Time travel isn’t the first thing that comes to people’s – demon’s – mind.”

“Whatever. She’s in Hell now,” Sam shrugged.

“And demons talk a lot in Hell. She’ll probably tell others we’re better trackers than she thought. And they’ll be more careful, which means we must be even more careful,” Dean took a deep breath, trying to control his mounting panic. “Damnit. Can’t wait till Lilith is dead.”

“She’s in Hell, too. And to kill her we need – “

“ – the Colt, yeah,” Dean sighed.

He was almost sure it was Elkins who had it. But how could they get it without causing suspicion? There was no way they could pretend to have tracked the whereabouts of the Colt on their own – Sam had done the research. Stealing was out of the question – Elkins would look for it and they wouldn’t be able to explain to Dad how they had got it. But letting things take their course knowing that the vampires would kill the guy wasn’t an option either. So, right now they were at a dead end. 

“You said Meg busted out from Hell,” Sam frowned.

“Um. Yeah, why?” Dean wasn’t sure he’d mentioned that Meg had killed a hunter and attacked Jo and Bobby while possessing Sam. But since his brother already had his anti-possession tattoo, it was irrelevant now.

“So the Gates aren't the only way out for demons. Maybe there are other ways to drag them to the surface, then? Like summoning?”

“No. No summonings. The bitch is too dangerous.”

“So you suggest that we do what? Set her and other demons free and try to ambush her?” Sam asked skeptically.

“We tried to do this in my past but failed every time. I don’t have a foolproof plan on killing her, okay? I don’t have a plan at all.” He put the empty glass on the table with a loud bang. “I have an idea that might work, but I don’t like it. And anyway, the bitch is in Hell, we can worry about her later.”

Sam raised his eyebrows. “Later? You mean in two weeks when we’ll have the Colt, righteous souls and all demons on our asses?”

“Bite me. Let’s get out of there. Who knows, maybe Meg had friends who’ll come looking for her.”

“So, coordinates again? Huh,” Sam opened his laptop and started typing.

“Yeah. And no, I don’t remember. Can you check them?”

“Yeah, already. It’s a town. By the way, shouldn’t we tell Dad about Meg?”

Dean considered this. Theoretically, that couldn’t hurt. Dad should know how the balance of power stood. And he would probably take them more seriously this time, which would be useful.

“Yeah. I’ll leave him a message.” He dialed Dad’s number, waiting for his call to go to voicemail. 

_This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son Dean 866-907-3235. He can help._

Dean froze. It had been six years since he could last speak to the man. The realization that he could actually communicate, not only by doing the job and going where he sent them, but actually talk to Dad – even though only via voicemail – hit him like a train. 

“Dad…”

He suddenly forgot what he wanted to tell. The pause stretched. He hit ‘cancel’ button and dialed again.

“Dad, it’s me. Dean. Dean Winchester,” he swore and pressed ‘cancel’ again. Dad surely remembered his first and last name.

“Hey Dad, we’re fine, and just so that you know – ” he pressed ‘cancel’ again. He was supposed to sound more like giving a report than talking to a friend, right? He stared at the screen, trying to figure out what and how to say.

“Dad, we exorcized a demon a couple of days ago. She called herself Meg. Thought you might want to know,” he finally said after taking a couple of moments to choose his words.

“Dean, I’ve read the town news and there’s – “

“I don’t know what to do when Dad shows up,” he blurted out. Sam gave him a quizzical look.

“You hid the truth from me for months. You’ll manage.”

“It’s not that. I mean, it’s been six years.” Dean tossed his phone on the bed and ran his hand through his hair. “So much shit has happened – well, now you have the idea. So, now I meet Dad and do what? Act like I’m twenty-seven, like I’m his good son? Like I’ve never been through all the crap I’d been through? Like he always knows better?” 

Sam smirked, not looking away from the screen. “Welcome to the club.”

Dean sighed heavily, shaking his head. “I still think Dad was – _is_ – right about a lot of things. He just doesn’t know the future. But I do.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to tell him?”

“Yeah. If I tell him, he’ll either insist that his life is an acceptable price for Azazel’s death or he’ll take charge of changing the future. And I can’t let him. He hasn’t been through it. He won’t know what to do.”

“Dean, we’ll figure it out somehow. And we’ll need to go over everything again since we won’t have much opportunity to discuss this stuff in Dad’s presence.”

“Sure, nerd. So, what about the town?” He looked at the laptop screen from behind Sam’s shoulder.

“No murders, no strange disappearances. A lot of kids have gone down with pneumonia, though,” Sam pointed at the picture of a local hospital.

“Now we’re talking,” Dean smiled with grim satisfaction. “Shtriga, I remember that one. I don’t see what we can improve here, though. It’s gonna be complicated.”

“There’s nothing about shtrigas in Dad’s journal,” Sam noticed, already googling the word.

“Yeah, but I know how to kill it. That’s not a problem.”

“But Dad doesn’t know you know, and he sends us there anyway?”

“He knows I know because I know it from the past. I mean, from our past, not from my future-past. You got it.” 

Sam looked puzzled. “I don’t remember hunting shtrigas. Or I’ve left for Stanford already?”

Dean sighed and started packing the duffel. “Not that it matters now, but past me told past you, so – “ he trailed off. “A shtriga almost killed you when we were kids. Dad was hunting and we were cooped up in a motel alone for three days, I got bored and went out. When I returned it was looming over you, so I cocked the gun but didn’t shoot. It was close, I could miss and hurt you. Luckily, Dad came back just in time. So I messed up his hunt and nearly got you killed. I take it it’s a hint to fix the mess.”

“Dad never told me about that,” Sam said quietly after a short silence.

“Well, he never mentioned it to me again either,” Dean shrugged.

“Don’t tell me you’re blaming yourself,” Sam stared at him in disbelief. “Dean, it wasn't not your - ”

“Sam, you could be dead just because I decided to play a game on that damn arcade machine,” Dean snapped. That incident had been his first serious fuck-up, the first time he had seen disappointment in his father’s eyes and he still felt ashamed of his stupidity every time he thought about it.

“And I still don’t blame you. If anyone screwed up, it’s Dad. You don’t leave your kids like that. And you don’t give kids a gun to protect themselves. That’s ridiculous.” 

Dean sighed, shaking his head. Sometimes he got the impression that Sam didn’t understand that knowing about all kinds of monsters automatically shifts all the criteria of normal life. 

“Dad knew what he was doing. If I didn’t break his order – “

“For god’s sake, Dean, you’re thirty two and you still think like that?”

“Dad was mostly right about things.”

“Even when he told you to kill me if you can’t save me?” Sam demanded, looking intently at him.

When Dean didn’t say anything, he continued. 

“Look, even if you had stayed indoors, that wouldn’t have scared off the shtriga. So you would have had to shoot and it would have escaped anyway.”

“Maybe you’re right. It doesn’t change the fact that I put your life at risk, though,” he ignored Sam’s attempts to protest and asked, “How do you think we should kill it now? Because I can’t come up with a plan. I mean, we can’t exactly ask parents to let us set an ambush in their house so that we can blast a monster with consecrated wrought iron after it starts sucking the life out of their kid.”

“Yeah. Sounds complicated,” Sam rubbed the back of his neck. “Did any of the parents work night shifts?”

“Not that I remember. Well, nobody died last time, so in any case, we can just do everything the way we did before.”

“Dean, why do I have the impression that you’re faking amnesia now?” Sam narrowed his eyes. Dean had been evasive about the hunt ever since Sam read about a couple found dead with their throats slit and found a pattern of similar murders in Dad’s journal.

“I’ve no idea what has gotten into you today. Are you still pissed off that your morning vanilla latte wasn’t vanilla enough?”

“Dean. It’s serious. We’re approaching the major point in our future that we want to change. We could use some extra time, you know. Especially given that you don’t remember the date Elkins was killed.”

“Sam, this hunt won’t take us too long. Relax.” Well, Sam was right – they didn’t have much time before Elkins’ death, but he just couldn’t deprive his brother the chance to meet Sarah. 

“So you do remember,” Sam gave him a bitchface.

“Oh, c’mon, you said yourself you wanted to have the same memories you from my universe had. So, that’s what I’m doing,” Dean grinned mischievously. 

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

As Dean expected, the chemistry between his brother and Sarah was instant. Dean didn’t forget to piss off Mr. Blake so that they had to leave before Sarah could agree to give them the documents. After all, Sam had to take her on a date and he was a good big brother. And he already knew what he would be doing do while Sam was busy.

“So, how did it go?” Dean pretended to be relaxed, although he had returned to the motel room only half an hour ago. Finding that creepy-ass family’s mausoleum with the freaking doll turned out to be more difficult than he had expected. But right now the doll was in the trunk of his car. He would burn it _just at the right time._

“I got the provenance,” Sam replied, holding up the files. 

“I asked how it went and not whether you got the provenance,” he gave Sam a meaningful look.

Sam sighed and sank into the couch. Dean could see he was trying to hold back a smile.

“It didn’t work out in your universe, did it?” It wasn’t really a question.

“Well, Dad died about two weeks afterwards. And then a lot of crap happened. It doesn’t have to be like that this time, Sam.”

Sam winced. “Shit. Two weeks till Dad’s death.”

“Dad’s death that isn’t going to happen,” Dean pointed out.

Sam was silent for some time, pretending to be looking through the papers.

“It was good, actually. The dinner, I mean. The waiter brought a wine card and she was like ‘I don’t know about Romeo here, but I’ll have a beer’,” he gave a short laugh, smiling at the memories.

“Sam, I said it before, and I'll say it again now – marry this girl. You have my blessing,” Dean declared solemnly.

“That’s why you brought me here in the first place, right?”

“Yep.”

“We need to stop the Apocalypse first. And let’s just face it – we don’t know how to kill Azazel and Lilith yet.”

“We can kill Azazel when he tries to create another psychic kid, remember? You’ll have a vision about it. It’s only two or three weeks from now.”

“Um. I wouldn’t be so sure, Dean. It’s still bugging me – why on Earth did he need to create another psychic kid when he already got the whole generation ready?”

“No idea. Never tried to figure out how his brain worked.”

“Did he try to create more psychics besides this one?”

“Don’t know. You didn’t have other visions about that kind of thing, though.”

“And we already had the Colt at that time, right? And it happened on the same day Dad went to Meg with a fake one?”

“Yeah, why?”

Sam tossed the papers away and made a steeple of his fingers. 

“I’ve been thinking. It wasn’t necessarily Azazel who was there – I think any demon can set a room on fire and acquire human shape. And even if it was Azazel himself, he was waiting for us.”

“What? Why?”

“Maybe to see who had the real Colt? To make us waste the bullets?”

“It makes sense. _Fuck._ ”

“So, are we leaving tomorrow or what? The picture will magically restore itself?”

Dean suppressed a laugh. Sam was going to be very pissed at him, but that was worth it. Who knew, maybe he wouldn’t screw up the whole preventing the Apocalypse mission and these two would end up together and have a normal life, just like Sam had always wanted?

“Of course, we are. But we’ll stop by the auction house tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“It’s not polite to leave without saying goodbye, you know.” 

Sam eyed him suspiciously but said nothing.

Dean hesitated, deciding whether or not he should act like the adult he actually was. But he decided against it. He came to the conclusion that it would be unfair to deprive Sam of the memories he was supposed to have about younger Dean’s stupid jokes. After all, embarrassing his little brother from time to time was his privilege. And Dean definitely had 20$ in his wallet. 

Sam made an epic bitch face, and he looked so funny that for a second Dean felt like he really was twenty-seven, without this huge weight on shoulders and knowledge that the fate of the whole world quite literally depended on him.

By the look of it, the poor woman had been killed very recently – her body was still bleeding a little. Dean mentally kicked himself. He should have remembered. He had got so carried away playing matchmaker that he hadn't even bothered to dig deeper in his memory and recall that there had been another victim.

However, his second thought was that this woman was a perfect source of dead man’s blood. Yeah, Dean had definitely developed a professional quirk.

“Hold on a sec,” Dean rushed to the kitchen and returned with two huge mugs. Ignoring Sam's disgusted heaves, he adjusted the position of the corpse so that the blood was dripping into the cup now. 

“Dean, what the hell are you doing?” Sam was gaping at him in horror.

“Trust me, it’s easier than breaking into a morgue.”

“Dean!” Sam gestured at Sarah who, to her credit, was slightly green, but didn’t look like she was going to faint. _Sam must marry her._

“Sarah, I’m sorry you had to see this, but - well, me and Sam are going to hunt vampires soon, so we really need this,” Dean smiled apologetically, putting full cups on the nearest coffee table.

“Oh. Vampires. Of course. If ghosts exist, so do vampires, right?” She let out a nervous laugh. “So, this blood, it’s like a bait for them? You’ll spike it with some kind of poison?”

Dean chuckled approvingly. The girl was smart. 

“It’s already a poison. Dead man’s – well, woman’s will do too, of course, – blood is like a tranquilizer for them. Usually, we would have to break into a morgue, but you know, when a person is dead for too long, drawing blood from the corpse is a pain in the ass.”

“Thanks for the details, Dean,” Sam gave him a ‘shut-up-now’ look.

“No, I’m fine, that’s quite interesting, actually,” Sarah reassured, trying not to look at the body. “Just don’t forget to get rid of the cups. This blood – it’ll kill them or what?”

“No, there’s only one way to kill them,” Dean grinned and made a slicing motion across his neck.

“Dean, _what the fuck you think you’re doing?”_

“Sam, relax. Everything is under control.” And it was, Dean was holding the doll he had kept in the trunk until now, ready to light it up any moment.

“I hate you.” He heard a loud bang in the background. “Shit. We’re trapped in the living room now. _Do something already._ ”

“Oh, c’mon. Let Sarah see you in action.”

“ _Dean!_ ”

“Seven minutes, alright?” 

It was half the time he used in the past to get to the mausoleum and burn the doll, so Dean figured they were pretty safe.

“I’ll kill you.”

“So, we’re finally going to Elkins now?”

They had said goodbye to Sarah, left her a spare EMF and an anti-possession charm, and had given her a quick crash course on fighting evil sons of bitches. She’d come up with a clever idea to use fluorescent paint for devil traps. _Invisible devil traps._ The girl had brains. 

“Yeah. It’s a two-day ride. Hope your plan to tell about looking for Dad and the demon will work. Make sure you give him your best puppy eyes, okay?”

“I don’t have puppy eyes,” Sam huffed indignantly. 

“You totally do. And it’s good. He needs to feel heartbroken enough to give us the Colt he’d been keeping for ages.”

“Or he would be killed by vampires. What are we going to do with them, by the way?” 

“Kill, of course.”

“Yeah, I mean, how? It’s the whole nest we’re talking about”

“I have an idea. Think about ultrasound. Like they use in these ultrasonic pest repellers. I’m pretty sure it can disorient bloodsuckers.”

When Dean was a vampire, he had suffered from a splitting headache because everything was way too loud. So, he guessed there was a good chance several ultrasound repellers would win them enough time to poison all of them with dead man’s blood. 

“That’s brilliant, actually.”

Elkins looked very sympathetic when Sam finished talking. Dean stayed silent most of the time, but he dropped a few hints that, if not killed now, the demon could turn into a threat for everyone.

“I think I might have what you need, boys,” he said, apparently hesitating. “There’s a way to kill a demon – to kill anything.”

“But?” Dean asked apprehensively. Whatever conditions Elkins had, Dean hoped they were feasible.

“I’ve come across another vampire nest recently. And I think they have noticed me. And you know what it means,” he looked at them meaningfully.

Sam frowned. “But you just cut their heads off, right?”

Elkins laughed humorlessly.

“Do I look like I can take several bloodsuckers with a machete, son? I only track them and pass information to other hunters.”

“Oh. Yeah, I see. Sorry.”

Dean cleared his throat. “Say this nest no longer exists – would you be able to help us?” 

“No longer exists?”

“We’re hunters. We killed vampires before.” Well, Dean had killed them, but Sam was a fast learner.

“No, no. It’s a big nest – there are eight of them at least, and they’re old and familiar with hunters. You’d better leave them for others.”

“Yeah, but if the nest is no longer a problem,” Dean pressed, “would you help us?”

“Boys, your Dad will skin me alive if you two die there.”

“Mr. Elkins. Please.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll help you. But I’m strongly against this idea.”

“Great. See you around.”

“A nest with at least eight vampires. Elkins’s right, it’s a dangerous gig. ”

“Uh-huh.”  


“Dean, I get it, you prevented the Apocalypse, beat Horsemen and made a deal with Death himself, but let’s not underestimate – “

“I don’t underestimate them,” he really didn’t, not after he had been turned into one of them. “To the contrary, I am very aware of how dangerous they are. But we have two pints of dead man’s blood, ultrasound and several machetes. If we’re careful, everything is gonna be fine.”

“We don’t know for sure ultrasound will work.”

“I’m sure it will. Fill the syringes with blood and sharpen the machetes. I’ll go buy us new clothes.”

“New clothes?”

“Trust me, these stink so strongly that the smell alone might wake them up.”

The most difficult part was finding the nest. Dean vaguely remembered it was some kind of barn on the outskirts of Manning, but he had to go through police records on missing cars and people to establish a pattern and find the place.

They managed to poison three bloodsuckers before the others started to stir. But ultrasonic pest repellers worked wonders – the vampires were disoriented quickly, and they swiftly poisoned the others. Cutting off heads from barely conscious monsters was just mildly disgusting.

“Burn the bodies, I’ll put their heads in a bag in case Elkins will need some solid proof.”

Elkins was shocked. He muttered something about their Dad’s child-rearing methods and disappeared inside the house. Dean waited nervously, praying that everything would be that simple – the nest in exchange for the Colt. He didn’t know what to do if Elkins gave them a fake – and Dean was sure the guy probably had one, just in case, he wasn’t an idiot. But they weren’t supposed to know what the real Colt looked like. And what if he gave them just one bullet – shit, they should’ve agreed on the bullets beforehand.

But Elkins returned with the real Colt and all five bullets.

“Sam, salt lines, everywhere,” was the first thing Dean said when they got back to the motel. He started to paint devil traps on the floor – and he couldn’t care less if they got a fine for this. When he was done, he brought the Colt inside and dialed Dad.

_“We have a very important update on the demon we are hunting. We’re in Manning, Colorado. Get here as soon as you can.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your support <3
> 
> Comments make me very happy, so let me know what you think about the story. How do you think the boys will deal with Azazel and Lilith? :)
> 
> Take care and stay safe :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone who's reading this work while it's still in progress. I really appreciate your support <3  
> And huge thanks to [AlexFlex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexFlex/pseuds/AlexFlex), as a non-native speaker I really appreciate your help!

Dean could barely sleep that night. They had stayed up late – Sam had insisted that they should go over all his memories again, asked hundreds of questions, making him remember everything till the last detail.

_The kid we saved from Azazel? Definitely a girl. No, I don’t think she had siblings._

_Could not-a-psychic open the Gates with the Colt? Probably, we hadn’t checked, though._

_Who else was unaffected by holy water? Well, if it worked even on Alastair, then it must work on most demons. No, we didn’t try it on Lilith._

He felt too wound up to even try to close his eyes, so he was staring at the ceiling, mentally going through all the arrangements they’d agreed on. They would give Dad an anti-possession charm. They would remind him to paint the devil’s trap in his room, and they would check it. They had already filled several plastic coffee cups with holy water and placed them around the room – it was the most innocent looking weapon they could think of. 

They’d bought a fake colt and a case, just in case some shit would happen.

They had warned Bobby, Caleb and Pastor Jim. Dean was worried about Adam – there was hardly any better leverage than Dad’s son and their half-brother. But neither of them could think of a way to warn Adam about a possible demon threat without sounding like someone who’d broken out from a psych ward, so Dean just hoped the demons wouldn’t get to him, like the last time.

He turned his head and saw Sam also lying in the same position – on his back, hands crossed above the covers.

“Sam? Are you still revising my past-future in your head?”

“No. I’m thinking how to kill Azazel,” Sam said and turned on the nightstand lamp since none of them was sleeping. 

Dean chuckled. That was funny – fifteen years ago he told his brother about monsters – he remembered they’d been sitting in the dim light at night, alone, in a motel in the middle of nowhere, having chips for dinner. And here they were now, both grown-ups with a burden on their shoulders, plotting together against the Prince of Hell himself in a dimly lit shabby motel room and still running on takeouts.

“I really don’t understand how we coped with all this in your universe,” Sam whispered. “I mean, even now, with all your knowledge that’s gonna be hard.”

“I’m really glad you won’t live through this crap again.” _You won’t get hooked on demon blood, won’t have nightmares about Lucifer, won’t fall into the Cage…_

“The Apocalypse was planned God knows how long ago. We’re in a better position now, but still there’s not much we can do against Hell and Heaven. They probably have plan B, plan C and up to plan Z. And not only in the English alphabet.”

“We have the Colt. No matter how many plans they have, it can still kill them. Dad will be here soon. We’ll track Azazel down – “

“He’ll let us track him down,” Sam corrected him. “Or shows up himself.”

“He’ll sure as hell do after we send all his minions back to Hell.”

“Yeah. Can’t wait.”

“That must be him,” said Dean, hearing the engine rumble in the parking lot. 

“That’s the third time you've said it’s him. Calm down. It’s gonna be fine,” Sam said, typing something on his laptop. Dean looked at his reflection in the mirror, as if checking if anything about appearance could give away he was from the future.

“Jeez, Dean, it’s just Dad.”

Easy for Sam to say. Dean still had a feeling that Dad had the superpower of knowing everything with a single glance.

“What are you typing anyway?”

“Saying hi to Sarah. Advised her to check her devil’s traps. Hope she takes the hint.”

“You can be more direct with her.”

“You mean, to tell her that we’re closing in on the Prince of Hell and we have the weapon every demon wants to get, so they might try to kill her to blackmail us?”

There was a knock on the door. Nothing special, just an ordinary knock, but the three of them could recognize the subtle pattern. Dad. 

Dean tucked the gun in the back of his jeans, made sure the carpet completely covered the devil’s trap and opened the door.

Dad was standing right in front of him, only a foot away. Dean felt like he had been punched in the gut. He still remembered how Dad looked, but his memories were fading with every passing year, and they didn’t have a lot of family photos to refresh them. And now he saw Dad, alive, in the flesh, within arm’s reach. 

He knew instantly it was Dad – by the way his eyes quickly inspected Dean, scanned the room, stopping on Sammy. By the way he was holding his right arm in the deep jacket pocked – probably gripping a knife or a gun. 

“Christus,” Dean chocked instead of a greeting.

John smiled. Dean noticed he was the same height as Dad. It felt weird – somehow he expected Dad to be taller.

“I was going to splash you with holy water, but apparently, it’s not necessary.”

“Um. Holy water might not work on high-ranking demons,” Dean blurted out. He realized he was still holding the door half open, blocking the doorway. He let Dad inside and hugged him. The knowledge that it all was happening for real made the whole situation seem even more surreal. He couldn’t be that lucky.

“Hey, Dad,” Sam said from behind, smiling. “It’s good to see you.” And damn it, it was so good to see his brother hugging Dad. Usually these two were too proud, too stubborn to make the first step and apologize, so the air between them almost sparked with static till both of them could pretend to have forgotten the incident. 

Dean wondered how long that would last. Sure, Sam was less pissed now that he had all the information in his notebooks and maybe he would be more forgiving now that he knew they’d lost Dad in another universe, but that was a matter of time till Dad would tick him off.

“Daniel left me a message, so I had a general idea of what you were up to. Good job with the vampire nest, boys. And I got your message about Meg. Well done.”

“So, we’ve earned the right to watch your back while you’re hunting the demon?” asked Sam lightly.

“We’ll see,” John answered, and to Dean’s relief, Sam didn’t press further. “We’ve got a lot to discuss.”

“So, for the last six months this demon has been attacking families with infants,” Dean said, studying the notes on the map.

“Six-month-old infants,” said John.

“And there is _always_ a fire in the nursery?” asked Sam, who already knew it wasn’t always the case.

“In all the cases I’ve noticed, yes. It kills mothers, but never the kids – it's also funny that no one has died from smoke inhalation or burn injuries.”

Dean exchanged glances with Sam.

“Dad,” Dean cleared his throat. It’d been a long time since he used this word. “Were there omens without fires? Ever. Not only during the last six months.”

“I didn’t notice. Why? What’s wrong with the fires?”

“Dunno. What’s the sense?” Dean shrugged. “It kinda draws unnecessary attention, forms the pattern. And it’s not like demons can kill only with fire.”

John was thoughtful. What Dean said should be enough for him to come to the idea that the demon was screwing with them.

“Do you have these families’ names and addresses?” Sam asked. “I want to look them up on the net. To see if the kids are alright.” 

_To see where the other psychic kids lived and if any of them had already been kidnapped._

“Yeah, in my truck, I’ll give you them later. Don’t see how it’s useful, though.”

“Well, it wouldn’t hurt either.”

Sam was pacing around the room.

“So, sometimes there’s a fire, sometimes not.”

“Yeah, I’ve told you that before. It’s unclear if there are always omens.”

They were back in their room. Dad was already wearing the anti-possession charm, and was in his own room on the floor above, with the devil’s trap in front of the door and holy water camouflaged as coffee. They’d asked a few leading questions, trying to find out whether he already knew something about Azazel’s plans, but even if he did know something, he’d chosen not to share. Dean hoped Sam’s visions wouldn’t start in his presence.

“Okay. Suppose Azazel wants to create a pattern,” Sam said, “then there are omens and a fire in the nursery. But the omens start a week before. He can’t know in advance whether he would need to kill the mother or not.”

“So, either these omens go unnoticed or Azazel has turned some kids into psychics without these signs and they’re impossible to track. Awesome.”

There was a knock on the door and it opened. Dad stood in the doorway wearing a jacket.

“Daniel called and asked me to help him with some wards against demons and devil’s traps. I’ll go see him. We had a fight a year ago and – well, we were both wrong,” John gestured vaguely. That was as close to ‘I was being an ass’ as Dad could admit. 

“You’re going alone?” Dean asked.

“Yes, Dean. Like I’ve been for the last six months and many times before,” Dean looked away. Well, probably for someone not expecting the imminent Apocalypse it looked like he was overdoing his vigilance.

“Wait,” he fished the pest repellers out of his duffel back. “Give him these. They work really good against vamps, you just turn them on at the same time and bloodsuckers are knocked out.” He felt slightly guilty about leaving an old man defenseless against vampires.

“Good thinking.”

“Tell him we said hi.”

“Sure. Though I don’t think he’ll forget you, boys” John chuckled, leaving. Dean locked the door.

“So, we’re going to Salvation tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah. It’s a twelve-hour ride. We’ll need to pack tonight.”

“I’ll go buy some snacks. Dad can run on thin air when he’s driving with a purpose, but we’ll starve.”

“Let’s wait till Dad’s back from Elkins and go together?” asked Dean, knowing it was probably overkill.

“Jeez, Dean – ”

“Sam, last time you were kidnapped from a cafe with me sitting in the car nearby. Just – ugh. Look, I know I sound like a paranoid freak but humor me till we’re done with Lilith, okay?”

“Dean, at this rate tomorrow you’ll say I’m not allowed to use a bathroom alone.”

“I lived in the universe where a demon could pop out from under your car and slash your throat, so cut me some slack, man.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. This kid was like seventeen. He saved our asses twice the day he died.” By that time he’d got used to people dying, but on that day he felt life was particularly unfair. “I just don’t want to screw up again.” 

Sam sighed and sat back on the couch.

“So, can we go to the shop now?” Sam asked after Dad returned in the evening.

“Yeah. And let’s put the Colt in the car,” he handed the gun to Sam. “Tomorrow we’ll carry the case with a fake, so hopefully it’ll look like the Colt is in the case even when it’s not.”

“Good idea,” Sam put the Colt in the inside pocket of his jacket, checking his reflection in the mirror to make sure it didn’t stick out. Dean put the case with a fake back in the closet.

“You’re going somewhere?” Dad walked into the room, carrying the duffel.

“Yeah, we’ll buy some snacks for tomorrow.”

“Sam can do it. Dean, help me to clean the guns and sharpen the knives.”

They exchanged looks. Sam shook his head dismissively, clearly not going to argue with Dad over this. Dean didn’t want to appear a psycho in Dad’s eyes. Sam took the “coffee” cup from the table and gave Dean the thumbs up. Well, after all, the market was just on the other side of the road and could be seen from their window.

Sam left. John put the duffel bag on the bed and handed Dean bore brushes and gun oil. 

He really must calm down. That was just a mini market hundred yards away from the motel. Sam could manage alone. And Azazel didn’t have the Colt, so no need to start that freaking survival show yet. Right? Right.

They sat in silence for some time.

“So, Elkins is alright?” Dean asked, not knowing what else to say. Good thing they both weren’t the talkative type.

“He’s fine, says ‘thanks’ for the vampire repellers.”

“Good.”

Something felt wrong. Every now and then Dean glanced at the door and through the window as if it could speed up Sam’s return. After cleaning a third gun he texted Sam, got a pissed message in response and calmed down a little bit. Okay, it looked like nobody was going to kidnap his brother today.

Yet for some reason he was anxious. The gut instinct that had saved his life so many times was screaming now.

He looked at Dad and couldn’t find anything wrong. He was cleaning the gun – maybe more slowly than usually, but they were in no hurry. He was still wearing the anti-possession charm – Dean saw the lace around his neck. And he had come in the room right through the devil’s trap.

Dean started sharpening the knives, hoping Sam would come soon and his paranoia would shut up. There was a loud knock on the door and a woman’s voice asked if they needed cleaning. Dad gestured to the door, asking him to talk with the maid. At that very second Dean saw what exactly was wrong with the picture.

Dad _never_ sat with his back to the door. Never, no matter what. Dean wasn’t sure if it was a marine thing or a hunter thing, but keeping all doors in sight and sitting with his back to the walls was Dad’s second nature. Yet he was sitting on Sam’s bed with his back to the door when there were at least two places in this room where he could sit and see the door. 

Dean sent the maid away, a plastic smile glued to his face, a thousand thoughts racing in his head. He suppressed the urge to check the devil’s trap – he couldn’t do this unnoticed, and in the worst-case scenario he would give himself away. 

He took a deep breath. That could still mean nothing. Or he was alone with Azazel. 

_Fuck._

He returned to sharpening the knives, thinking what to do. He couldn’t come up with a surreptitious way to find out if Dad was possessed.

 _Where the hell was Sam?_ Or maybe it was for the better that he hadn’t returned yet.

“Dad, have you seen Sam’s knife here? A butterfly knife, with a dark green handle,” Dean described a non-existent knife, pretending to look for it. 

“No,” Dad looked around, “he has a butterfly knife?”

“Yeah, a souvenir from Stanford. He didn’t forget about his safety completely there.”

“Good that he didn’t. I can’t see the knife here, though.”

“Maybe he left it in your room when we were discussing the demon. I’ll go check.”

Dad casually threw him the keys from his room. The bastard pretended really well. Or maybe Dean was wrong and it was still Dad. The answer was in Dad’s room – if the devil’s trap was still there, he’d do his best to turn off his hypervigilance.

He entered Dad’s room, aiming the gun at an unseen enemy. The room was quiet and empty. He lifted the carpet. The devil’s trap was there, intact. Relief flooded through him, he almost laughed – he should really stop freaking out over nothing.

To prove his paranoia wrong, he looked around the room for the traces of sulfur. Nothing. After a moment of doubt, he decided to check Dad’s jacket for bloodstains – Dad wouldn’t let Azazel possess him without a fight.

His hand felt small carton packs in one of the pockets. Curious, he took them out and froze in shock. It was the pest repellers. The pest repellers Elkins had thanked him for. With several bloodstains on them.

Fearing the worst, he dialed Elkins. Nobody took the call.

He returned to the devil’s trap and inspected it closely. And then he noticed it – a very thin line across the border of the circle. Two millimeters thin, but technically enough to turn a trap into a useless graffiti. 

Sam was in the shop. The Colt was in the Impala. Azazel was sitting in their room cleaning the guns. 

They were screwed.

“Found the knife?” Dad would have turned his head to watch who came in. Azazel didn’t.

“Nah, he probably took it with himself to the shop,” Dean shrugged, trying to look at ease. 

“I wonder what's taking him so long.”

“I bet he’s reading every single food label, trying to pick the most wholesome candy bars this shop can offer,” Dean forced a laugh. He had texted Sam from Dad’s room, but his brother hadn’t texted back yet. 

Azazel chuckled. He sounded so much like his father. Bastard. Dean fought the desire to shoot him with the nearest gun – it wouldn’t do any good and anyway, Azazel would have him pinned to the wall faster than he could take aim.

“So, I guess we’re finished,” said Dad – Azazel –- and started to pack the duffel. “Since you found the Сolt, it would be logical if you had it. That’s why you should give it to me, and you’ll have a fake one – that’ll confuse them.”

If up to this moment Dean still had some hope left, it shattered into pieces now. Yeah, Azazel might have Dad’s memory, but he would never understand how his mind worked. Dad had been hunting the demon for twenty years – he’d never even imply someone else could carry the weapon that could kill it.

Dean froze, thinking frantically. So, Azazel didn’t notice Sam had carried the Colt to the Impala. That was good. He just needed to win some time.

“Yeah, sure,” he gave Azazel the case with a fake and continued packing his duffel. The case was closed, with a devil’s trap painted on the lid. Azazel needed him to open it. Admitting it would be the moment of truth.

_Where the hell was Sammy?!_

“Open it,” Azazel was rummaging in the duffel, keeping his hands busy. Smart son of a bitch.

“Yeah, in a sec,” Dean went to the bathroom, closed the door and turned the tap on. His heart was in his mouth. There was still no reply from Sam. He tried to call him, but his brother didn’t pick up the phone. Sam had the car keys and Dean couldn’t even excuse himself to get some fresh air and return with the Colt. 

Dean returned to the room, half expecting to see yellow eyes on Dad’s face and be pinned to the wall.

Azazel pointed at the box. Shit.

“What’s the matter? You can’t open it yourself?” Dean asked jokingly, gesturing at the devil’s trap.

“Maybe I’m checking you?” Azazel smiled. Damn it, he was a good actor.

“I have an anti-possession tattoo.”

“It can be burned off or cut off.”

“Yeah, but it’s still safer than anything else. Why haven’t you got one?”

“Just never thought of it, I guess.”

“C’mon, you spent half your life hunting the demon.” It was weird to talk to Azazel looking like Dad discussing how Dad had been trying to track him down.

“Yeah. And now we finally have the Colt. Open the case already.” 

They stared at each other for a long moment. Dean was very aware of how easily Azazel could kill him right now and that he had nothing to defend himself.

Slowly, he opened the case. Azazel reached for it, but before he could take it or see the contents, Dean slammed the case shut. He met Dad’s eyes.

“Well, I can open it. Your turn,” he said, trying to keep his voice even.

John’s hazel eyes turned ugly yellow. Next moment Dean was pinned to the wall.

Azazel didn’t have Alastair’s imagination, but Dean doubted he would last for a long time. He was about to black out and only his worry about Sam kept him conscious. He desperately hoped the demons hadn’t got his brother.

Dean tried to support conversation with Azazel to buy time, mainly insulting him and being a smartass, but after Azazel had done something to his lungs, he could only cough up blood and grunt in response. Breathing had become a challenge, too.

Shit. He couldn’t die like that. He just couldn’t. It wasn’t a part of Death’s plan, right?

Something caught his attention – behind Azazel, the door handle moved and the door cracked open. One unexpected advantage of this motel – the doors didn’t squeak here. Whoever tried to open the door - Dean didn’t know whether he wanted it to be Sam or not – Azazel wouldn’t notice. 

“I’ll open the case. You can take the Colt,” Azazel was likely to finish him off once he discovered the colt was fake, but he had run out of ideas to win time. And he needed to divert Azazel’s attention away from the door.

The door opened wider. Sam was standing in the doorway, taking aim. Dean noticed he had blood on his face.

“You really think I can’t open the damn box just because you painted the devil’s trap on it?” Azazel laughed. “No, it’s not only that. You should hear your Daddy screaming inside. Oh, the slower and the more painful your death is, the more guilty he’ll feel. He’ll do everything to bring you back.” 

Dean felt his intestines boil and screamed.

The next moment he heard a gunshot. Azazel – Dad – fell on the floor, his body glowing with orange light. The blood puddle under Dad’s head was growing quickly. Dean dropped on the floor, too, coughing up more blood and trying not to choke on it. Sam locked the door from the inside and rushed to him.

“Sam, Azazel – the devil’s traps – “

“Yeah, I see. We’re leaving. Right now. Can you walk?” Sam helped him to get up. Dean staggered but nodded – the parking lot wasn’t far.

“Thank God we’ve packed already. I’ll take bags, then go back for Dad’s body and we’ll get the hell out of here.”

“How are we going to get past the reception?”

“This motel doesn’t have an administrator anymore.” Dean raised his eyebrows and Sam went on to explain. “The guy was possessed. Said he was Meg’s brother and he was really pissed we’d exorcised her. I had to shoot him. That’s why it took me so long.” 

Dean muttered curses. Well, if Azazel and his son had been acting together, that explained ruined devil’s traps. He crouched over Dad’s body and pulled the lace from the anti-possession charm – predictably, the pendant itself wasn’t there.

“You were right. They are getting smarter,” Sam said, taking both his and Dean’s duffel bags.

“I’ll call Bobby,” croaked Dean. Bobby was Bobby. Dean was sure he could always help when it came to saving their asses.

Dean came around in a hospital.

Of course. Where else would his worried little brother drive him? Of course, it had to be a fucking hospital.

He turned his head and saw Sam dozing in a chair nearby.

“Sam? What the hell?” 

His brother jerked awake, reaching for the bottle of water – Dean suspected the water was holy.

“Dude, a hospital, seriously? We’re in the middle of preventing the Apocalypse.”

“Yeah, your doctor is well aware of that.”

“What?”

“You talked funny things under anesthesia hangover. And you tried to attack your anesthetist, claiming she was Lilith,” Sam smiled wearily.

“Oh, crap. Wait, anesthesia? I was operated on?”

“They couldn’t stop internal bleeding, so yeah, you had surgery, but the doc said it’s gonna be fine.”

“So, when are we leaving?” Dean honestly felt like he could use a couple days of hospital treatment, but he didn’t like that apathy in his brother’s tone.

Sam made a bitchface. “Dean, you have liver, kidney and lung contusion, you had surgery and they had to do a blood transfusion. For god’s sake, wait till it all at least partly heals.”

Dean sighed. Sam looked like he needed a hospital himself. He had the dark circles under his eyes he used to have when he couldn’t sleep because of nightmares, looked like he lost several pounds and his hair was a mess. Dean noticed several coffee cups on the bedside table and he wouldn’t be surprised if that was Sam’s only source of energy since he killed Azazel.

“Have you slept at all?”

“I’m fine, Dean.”

“Like hell you are.”

“Elkins was found dead, his throat was slashed," Sam changed the topic. "We – me and Bobby – warded this place. Fluorescent devil’s traps are basically everywhere, on the floor and on the ceiling, including the main entrance. We checked all your doctors and staff who had contacted you. Bobby is an FBI agent now, he monitors the cameras. We’re as safe here as we could be in any random motel.”

“Awesome. Are you all right?”

Sam didn’t answer.

“Sam, in my universe I was the one who was feeding you this ‘I’m fine’ bullshit when in truth I was a total wreck. Trust me, this coping mechanism sucks.”

Sam looked up. “I killed Dad, Dean. I’m as fine as I can be in this situation.”

“You saved my life. And you killed Azazel. Dad just died as a result,” Dean said firmly.

“Bobby said the same thing.”

“Yeah, and he knows what he’s talking about. He killed his wife when she was possessed.”

Sam frowned. “I didn’t know that.”

“I didn’t know either until those zombies showed up. Ugh, never mind, zombies aren’t important now.” 

Sam opened and closed his mouth several times, hesitating.

“I – it’s just – I mean – Shit, forget it. I’m fine.”

Dean knew this facial expression too well.

“Let me guess. You’re thinking you’re turning into some kind of a monster? You used to freak out about this all the time in my past.”

“Well, Dean, being Lucifer’s true vessel kinda influences your psyche,” Sam snapped.

“Michael isn’t that much better. And none of this shit will happen.”

“We thought we would prevent Dad’s death, too.”

“We screwed up here, yeah. Azazel was a smart son of a bitch, I’ll give him that. We won’t screw up next time.”

“Are _you_ alright?” asked Sam after a pause.

“Yeah. Not the first time I've lost him.”

“That’s why I'm asking.”

“I don’t know, Sam. We barely spent a day with him. For me it was like one of these good dreams that turn into nightmares at the end. I wish we’d saved him, but – I’m fine. Really.”

“I should have shot him in the leg. I just wasn’t absolutely sure it’d help Dad to get control back. And he – I mean, Azazel – was about to kill you, and I –“

“Sam, it’s fine. If you hadn’t killed him, they’d have found a way to finish what they started and Dad would have ended up in Hell.”

They were silent for some time.

“Where’s the Colt?” Dean asked.

“Under your pillow. Dean? Maybe it’s time to call your Cas? We could really use some backup.”

“Yeah, no argument here. We need backup, but not Cas. I mean, if it was the Cas I know – I’d have prayed to him ages ago. But I’ve no idea who the present Cas is. We call him now, we could end up having both demons and angels on our asses.”

“But he rebelled against Heaven for you.”

“Yeah. It was after he pulled me from Hell. The of experience sort of brought us together. But right now? He doesn’t have a vessel. He doesn’t even know me,” he said wistfully.

Now that he thought about it, there was no guarantee that he and Cas would become friends here. He would try to pray to him, of course, after all this crap was over. But he had no idea what he would tell him. 

_Hey, Cas, we were buddies in another universe and prevented the Apocalypse together, you wanna hang out?_

“I have an idea, though. Ask Bobby for the Roadhouse number, it’s Ellen’s bar. He must know it. And Sam? Humor me and don’t go outside the hospital. I’m begging you.”

“I won’t. Sorry for giving you crap about being paranoid.”

It was so good to hear Ellen’s voice again and Jo’s laughter in the background. Dean swallowed, shaking off the memories of their death. Fuck Lucifer and the Apocalypse.

“Ellen, rumor has it you have a genius MIT dropout living at your bar? Can you put him on the phone?

Ellen shouted Ash’s name several times, and after a couple of minutes Dean heard Ash’s voice.

“Good afternoon, it’s Dr. Badass. An hour of my time costs one beer. What can I do for you?”

“Hey, Ash. I need to find somebody. I’ll send you his composite sketch. He’s short. Well, shorter than 6’0 anyway,” he remembered Gabriel was about the a head and shoulders shorter than Sam. “People around him get killed or have crazy hallucinations – like really crazy, slow dancing with aliens and stuff like that. He eats tons of candies. Might be seen in the company of chicks looking like pornstars. He’s probably working as a janitor at a university – probably in Ohio. That’s all I’ve got.”

“Hmph. Interesting. That’ll cost you twenty-one beers, pal.”

“I’ll tell that to Ellen,” Dean chuckled and hung up. It was nice to have Ash alive.

“So, this janitor guy is the backup you were talking about?” Sam asked, perplexed.

“Yep. He’s the archangel Gabriel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason, I really enjoyed writing this chapter, though I like John and it hurt to kill him.
> 
> Let me know what you think, your comments are very welcome!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Hope you're doing good in these times.  
> I just want to share this [interview](https://ew.com/tv/supernatural-richard-speight-jr-season-2-tall-tales/) of Richard Speight Jr. (Gabriel) with you. **Read it.** We all need a little laugh nowadays. 
> 
> Many thanks to Basic_otaku from Reddit for betaing this chapter!

Sam stared suspiciously at the printed frame taken from the university surveillance camera video Ash had just sent them.

“Dean, I’ve never questioned your memory before, but… are you absolutely sure it’s Gabriel?”

“Yep.”

Sam frowned. “The Archangel?” 

“The Archangel, the Messenger of God, the youngest of the four God’s sons. Yeah, it’s him. Why, what’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong with the Archangel who's watching half-naked girls mopping the floor? Really, Dean?”

“C’mon, I told you he left us the instructions on trapping Lucifer disguised as Casa Erotica. What did you expect?”

Sam shrugged, put the printout away (face down) and opened his laptop. They were still in the hospital. Dean had slept through the night and was feeling better – he suspected the painkillers had reduced his paranoia so he’d been able to relax and fall asleep. Sam claimed to have taken a nap too, but judging by how worn out his brother looked, he must have spent the night monitoring surveillance cameras with Bobby.

“Sarah called, by the way. We made the news – well, not we, but our motel. We didn't cover our tracks well, so they showed the devil’s traps, that dead guy and the bullet with the engraved number nine – the one that killed him.”

Dean winced, “Crap. Now the demons know how many bullets are left.”

“They also identified Dad’s blood and assumed he’d been killed. I’m surprised the cops didn't find our prints or your blood. And we’re lucky the street cameras were out of order.”

“I guess Death is still covering our asses. What did you tell Sarah?”

“I left out most of the details. I bet she noticed I wasn’t telling the whole truth, but she didn’t press further. Said she was just happy we made it out alive,” a faint smile appeared on Sam’s face. 

_Damn Heaven and Hell with their plans. His brother deserved to be happy._

“Sam? When all this is over, I’m gonna be your best man at the wedding. I’ll even wear black tie and do my best to forget all the embarrassing stories from our childhood.” 

“You totally will. Or there’ll be no pie or cheeseburgers on the menu.” 

Dean wanted to throw a pillow at his brother, but remembered the catheter in his arm and thought better of it. 

“You think Gabriel will agree to help us?” Sam asked after a few minutes of silence. “From what you've told me, he hasn’t been too eager in the past.”

“Well, yeah. Lucifer was already topside, so Gabe just wanted everything to be over. But now when we’re trying to prevent the start of the Apocalypse – maybe he’ll help.”

“I just don’t get it. If he didn’t want to see his brothers fight, why didn’t he even try to kill Lilith? I mean, he’s the Archangel, he could have smitten her.” 

Dean shrugged. “That would've drawn too much attention. Michael would've been very pissed off, other angels too. I doubt he could've continued to live as a trickster or Loki afterwards.” 

“They'll be pissed off in this universe too.” 

“We’re low on options. At least Gabriel won’t report us to Heaven. So it’s worth a shot. And Sam? Look up the cemeteries in Canisbay. It’s a small village in Scotland. The cemetery we need is near some lake or river.”

Sam gave him a puzzled look. 

“We still need to drag Lilith to the surface, and I'd rather not open the Gates again,” Dean explained. “So we need an ally in Hell, too. Crowley’s a dick, but he’s not the worst, and if we get his bones – he’ll have to help us or we’ll kill him.”

“Bobby stole med uniforms for us, so hopefully we’ll make it to the car unnoticed,” Sam said, handing him a white coat and a dark blue scrub set. 

A couple of days ago, Bobby noticed five demons lurking around the hospital keeping watch on the main entrance and the parking lot. Luckily, they didn’t seem to know about the emergency exit in the south wing. 

“Dean, we’re leaving today, so call Adam already.”

They’d been monitoring Windom for a few days now, and so far nothing suspicious had happened – the only thing on the local news was the annual Riverfest and how beautiful and talented the new Miss Riverfest was. Well, in a rural town like this with a population of less than five thousand, a disappearance or a murder would have made headlines, so Dean was sure Adam was okay. For now.

But things could get worse once they escaped from the hospital. 

“Any bright ideas on how to explain all this crap to the kid?”

“Dean, I haven’t even met him.”

“And I've only met him twice. Once, actually – the first time it was the ghoul. You talked to him more than I did – “

“The past me,” Sam corrected.

“Oh c’mon, the past you said he was kinda like me, so maybe – “ Dean handed Sam his phone, but his brother didn’t take it.

Dean sighed, dialed the number, and put the phone on speaker.

“Hello. Adam? It’s Dean Winchester,” he said, stressing his last name and waiting for Adam’s reaction. For a moment, Adam was silent. Dean heard the music in the background stop abruptly. 

“Winchester? Is it about my father?” Adam’s voice sounded younger than Dean remembered. How old was the kid now? Fifteen, sixteen?

Sam was staring at the phone with an unreadable expression on his face. It’s not every day that you talk to your newfound brother on the phone. 

“Yes. He is dead,” Dean said matter-of-factly. He had no idea how to sugar-coat news like this anyway. “He was killed, actually. I’m John’s son, your brother.”

“Killed? When? What happened?” 

“Several days ago. He never told us we had a brother, so we just found out – I mean, me and Sam, he’s your brother, too,“ Dean answered, deliberately ignoring the second question. 

“Um. Yeah, I didn’t know about you either. So, um, are you calling about the funerals?” Adam asked, sounding uncertain. 

“No, not really. I mentioned that Dad had been killed, remember?”

“So?” 

“Well, we – Sam and I – are going to kill the bad guys that killed Dad.” Sam came back from his thoughts and started gesticulating angrily, “And after that everything will be fine. But until then, well, we believe you might be in trouble.”

Dean hated this conversation already but it was too late. So much for the first impression.

“In what kind of trouble?” Adam asked in an oddly calm voice. He wouldn’t be so calm if he believed in what they were saying.

“They might try to kill you. Well, they actually want to kill me and Sam, but they might decide to use you to blackmail us.”

There was a long pause. 

“I thought Dad was a mechanic, not a mafia member.”

Well, at least the kid hadn’t hung up yet.

“He’s neither. Well, he used to be a mechanic – look, we really don’t have time to explain our family history, but the thing is,” Dean took a deep breath, preparing for the most important part of the conversation, “we don’t know if these sons of bitches know about you, but if they do and they get to you, you’re screwed. Meaning you’re dead. So we suggest that our good friend takes you to his place and you’ll stay there until we kill these bastards. Sounds good?”

It didn’t sound good, even to him. Sam shook his head and reached for the phone.

“Umm, you know, thanks for help, I really appreciate it, but I think I’ll call you back – ”

“Hey Adam. Wait. It’s Sam. Don’t hang up. I’m really sorry we first talked under these circumstances. I know what Dean said sounds insane, but I’m afraid you might really be in danger.”

“How do I even know you’re my brothers? If any of this is true at all.”

Sam flipped through his notebook, finding the right page.

“Dad took you to baseball games on your birthdays and taught you how to drive a car. 'Sixty-seven Chevy Impala. Dean still has it. Um. I also bet he didn’t tell you much about himself, except for a couple of funny stories about his service in the marine corps. I don’t know if you noticed, but he always carried a flask he never drank from, and a gun.”

Adam remained silent.

“Adam? You still here?” Sam asked cautiously. 

“Yeah. Um. That’s all true. But I saw Dad like three or four times. Why would these people want to kill me? I’ve nothing to do with whatever shit is going on.”

“I know, but they won’t care. They can use you as leverage – it’s good enough for them. We just don’t want you to die, okay? Bobby is a good guy, and he’s our dad’s friend. You’ll be safe with him. He lives in Sioux Falls, it’s just a hundred miles from Windom.”

“A good guy who’ll kill bad guys if they try to kill me. Fantastic.” Adam let out a nervous laugh. “How will I explain this to my mom?”

“Um. Isn’t she in Rockford visiting her sister?”

“How do you know?” Now Adam sounded frightened. 

Sam winced, “We’ve been checking on you after Dad was killed, so we called her colleagues at the hospital she works at. If she’s away, you don’t need to tell her anything right now.”

Adam didn’t answer. 

“So, Bobby will be at your place tonight,” Sam continued. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” Adam said. A little too quickly and too enthusiastically. Sam frowned.

“Adam, look,” his brother started speaking in the kind of tone he usually saved for particularly scared victims of ghosts. “We don’t want you to do something reckless like running away or siccing the cops on Bobby. So if you don’t like the idea – fine, we’ll just back off.” 

Sam tried to give Adam a choice to make him feel more secure. But if the kid refused to go now, it would just complicate everything. Of course, they wouldn’t leave Adam in Windom. 

Dean took the phone. 

“Adam, if it was some kind of a trap, would we call you in advance? Especially given that we know where you live, the school you go to, and the hospital where your mother works, and your aunt's address.” 

“I'm on summer break, I could be anywhere!” 

“But you’re in Windom, Minnesota. The GPS on your phone is on.”

Adam was silent again. 

“Damnit, Adam,” Dean sighed. “You can tell us to fuck off and we will, but if they come after you, you’re dead.”

“How long will I have to stay at your friend’s place?” Adam finally asked.

“A week. Maybe ten days,” Dean lied easily. Of course, killing Lilith would take much more time, but at the moment they just had to bring Adam to Bobby’s place.

“Fine. But not more. Mom will be back, and I really don’t want to explain all this to her.”

“Yeah, sure,” Dean agreed. “Now a few tips on how to stay alive until Bobby arrives. Buy several packs of salt. Get holy water if there’s a church nearby - ”

“What the – “

“ – and make salt lines behind all the doors and on all the windowsills. Don’t leave the house. Make a huge salt circle around the sofa, put a silver knife and holy water within reach, and sit tight and wait for Bobby, okay?

“Are you high?” That didn’t sound like a question. 

“Only on the morphine the docs have given me. I’m in the hospital ‘cause these sons of bitches killed Dad and tried to kill me, and right now I’m trying to save your ass, so humor me and do as I say.”

“What hospital? And what’s your doc’s name?”

“Greeley Emergency and Surgery Center, Colorado. My doc is – “ he turned to Sam for help, who rolled his eyes and scribbled the last name on the notebook page. “ – Mr. Nelson.”

He heard the keyboard clicking in the background.

“It checks out. Alright. Whatever. I’ll make, um, salt lines and wait.”

Dean sighed in relief. Sam gave him a thumbs up.

“Yeah. When Bobby comes, ask him to show his anti-possession charm. It looks like a pentagram. And say ‘Christus’. Then cut him with your silver knife, okay?”

“None of this is okay, but okay, fine. Um. What should I do if something is… wrong?”

“Umm,” The truth was, if something was wrong, Adam would be screwed. “Do you have a gun?”

“No!”

“Dean, for god’s sake, he’s underage,” Sam groaned.

“Okay, Adam, that’s fine. Just – just take a baseball bat –“ 

“I don’t have a baseball bat either!”

“Oh crap, how are you still alive? Okay, listen. If something's wrong, just douse the son of a bitch with holy water, try to knock him out and run away. Then call us immediately. Umm, you don’t know how to hotwire a car, do you?”

“Who on Earth are you guys?” Adam asked and Dean thought he heard a hint of excitement in his voice.

“We're your awesome big brothers. Welcome to the family. Oh, and one more thing. There’s a large vent in your mother’s bedroom under the bed – “

“How the hell do you know about that?”

“Doesn’t matter. Make a salt circle around it too, alright?”

“Okay.”

“Good. Keep in touch.”

“It’s weird, man,” Sam said. They were standing in the queue at the convenience store. 

“What? Do you see something?” Dean asked, looking around and throwing a suspicious look at the cashier, who reminded him of Ruby – the dark-haired version of her – and it made him uneasy. Of course, he had checked her already – he had developed a habit of muttering “Christus” every time they entered a diner or a shop. 

Everything looked normal. The weather was perfect for July and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. It was hard to believe they killed the Prince of Hell a week ago. 

“I don’t see anything. This is weird. I mean, we slipped past five demons on the way out of the hospital, but where are they now? Shouldn’t they be following us? Everything is too normal.”

The girl behind them was asking her mother to buy pineapple bubble gum. The mother was trying to persuade her to take canned pineapples instead, insisting they were even tastier. Sam looked like he wanted to pour holy water all over them.

“Well, yeah, maybe it’s strange. But I’m not complaining that they don’t try to finish us off.”

Even after a week of hospital treatment Dean wasn’t exactly in his best shape. Sam had insisted on driving all the time, and he had argued, but only half-heartedly. He was slightly dizzy from the painkillers, but without them everything hurt too much.

“Anyway, we’ll be at Crawford Hall in two hours. We’ll be safe there.” 

“Uh-huh. If he doesn’t trap us in TV-land or shove me inside the car. Why did he shove me inside the Impala anyway? You two have a deeper connection,” Sam said, putting the change in his pocket.

“Actually, suppose – just suppose – you were inside the car. The demons won’t be able to kill you. They won’t even find you.”

“Dean!”

“I’m joking, Sammy, just joking. I wish Bobby had already built that panic room. Could’ve just dumped you and Adam there and let you out after all this is over.”

“Dean. I actually wanted to talk about this – about you trying to keep me safe. If some shit does happen – I mean, if they get to me – I take it there’s no point asking you not to make a deal, right?”

“You’re damn right. I’m bringing you back.”

Sam sighed, “Look, we don’t know for sure how much they’ll give you this time. They may force you to go to Hell right away.”

“I’m still making a deal, Sam.”

“I just wanted to ask you, when you get to Hell – “

“I thought about it, Sammy. I won’t break the seal. Now that I know everything, I wouldn’t give up.”

“Damnit, Dean,” his brother growled in frustration.

“What?”

“Break the damn seal immediately and get back. The angels won’t rescue you until the seal isn’t broken, do you realize that?”

“So you suggest that I start the Apocalypse again? No way. If I go to Hell, I stay there. Like hell Alastair will make me break the first seal again.”

“And how do you think I’m gonna live knowing that you’re burning in Hell?”

“Sam, it’s – damn. Once the seal is broken, there’s really not much we can do to stop the Apocalypse. We can’t kill Lucifer, we have practically no chances to kill Lilith before she breaks the rest of the seals. You’ll end up in Hell again and that’s not what I went back in time for.”

“They’ll find another righteous soul if you don’t give up. I dunno, you can’t be the only person who’s made a deal to save someone. So, just get back, okay?”

“Let’s think positive. No one's dead yet.”

“It’s him,” Dean nodded in the direction of the vending machine where Gabriel was buying a candy bar. He had a folded magazine in his hand – probably a source of inspiration for killing some douchebag.

“It couldn’t be weirder, Dean.”

Dean was sure Gabriel was only pretending not to notice them – being a “multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent,” he had probably felt their presence when they'd been miles away. Dean rummaged in his pockets for his police badge. They’d decided to pretend to be cops at first to test the waters.

“Mr. Coleman?” Sam cleared his throat. “I'm officer Plant, and this is officer Bonham. We’re with the County Sheriff’s Department, we would like to – “

“Oh yeah?” Gabriel raised an eyebrow, looking very amused. Dean recognized that dangerous smile. Sam seemed to have forgotten the speech he had prepared. 

“Yeah, we wanted to pretend to be the cops and ask you why the hell half-naked chicks are mopping the floor here” – Dean showed the printed frame from the surveillance camera – “but –“

“Do you mind if I keep it?” Gabriel was looking at the printout like a child at the Christmas present, “I'll send it to my relatives next time they ask how I'm doing. They'll be delighted to know I'm fine.” 

“Yeah. Sure.” 

Gabriel put the photo between the pages of the magazine. Sam caught a glimpse of a headline – “Irrefutable proof Atlantes existed” – and frowned. 

“What? You don’t believe in Atlantes?” Gabriel asked innocently.

“He believes,” Dean said hastily. Gabriel smirked.

“So, Dean and Sam Winchester. Interesting.”

“Gabriel. Nice to see you alive and kicking.”

The next second they were in an empty classroom. A perfectly normal classroom, except for the mountain of candy bars on the teacher’s desk.

“We’re in an alternative universe, aren’t we?” Sam asked with a resigned sigh.

“Nope. It’s an empty classroom on the fourth floor.”

Dean rolled his eyes, “Because walking is so exhausting.”

“Hey, I need to stretch my wings from time to time. So tell me, Dean, what does the future hold for us?”

In the middle of the conversation – when Dean was explaining how Sam had freed Lucifer – the candies were replaced with whiskey.

“So, I died a heroic death and you” – Gabriel threw a curious look at Sam – “were strong enough to shove my big bro back into the Cage. Not bad, guys, not bad.” 

“And we don’t want to go through all this crap again, so we want to kill Lilith before she breaks the seals,” said Dean. Gabriel had been listening carefully to everything he’d said, and even asked a couple of questions, but so far there was no sign of enthusiasm to side with them.

“Good idea. Good luck with that,” he raised his glass and took a sip, pretending not to understand the heavy hint Dean had dropped. 

Dean stared at Gabriel intently. He hadn’t expected Gabe to hop on board immediately, but dammit – he had forgotten just how infuriating the archangel could be.

“We hoped you could help us,” prompted Sam.

“Help you kill Lilith and spend the next millennia running my ass away from Michael? No, thanks, I've got better things to do.”

 _Yeah, like playing deadly tricks on whoever you see as dicks,_ Dean wanted to say but bit the words back. Arguing about morality would do them no good now.

“We can take on Lilith by ourselves,” Dean said. “We wanted to ask you to keep us – scratch that, to keep him” – he nodded at Sam – “alive. Because if he dies, I’m bringing him back even if it means I’ll go to Hell again.”

Gabriel was thoughtful for some time. Dean hoped it was a good sigh. He was wrong.

“How about you let your brother die and don’t make a deal? Hm?” Gabriel shrugged, unmoved. 

“Dammit, Gabe,” Dean growled. “You did help us back there. Why can’t you just stop being an asshole? We can prevent the Apocalypse and you won’t have to watch your brothers kill each other. All we need is some help to stay alive till we kill Lilith. Is that so much to ask?”

“Oh yeah? So you’ve already figured how to pull her out of Hell and get within shooting distance?”

“We’re working on it,” Dean admitted reluctantly.

They sat in strained silence for a while. 

“There was a civil war in Heaven after Michael and Lucifer were trapped in the Cage,” Sam said, choosing his words carefully. Gabriel turned to him, slightly surprised – so far Sam had hardly said anything. “I know you left Heaven a long time ago, but if the place still means something to you – “ Sam trailed off.

“A civil war?” Gabriel asked quietly.

Dean sighed. “God never returned, your bro Raphael came up with a genius idea to free Michael and Lucifer and restart the Apocalypse. Cas and some other angels were against it and things got pretty messy. Some Heaven's Weapons had been stolen – we were trying to locate the Staff of Moses shortly before I was sent back.”

Sam looked at him in shock – Dean hadn’t told him much about their post-Apocalyptic life. Gabriel whistled. All his sass was suddenly gone.

“Hell was a mess, too,” Dean continued. “Crowley – the new King of Hell – was trying to find Purgatory – “

“What?” Gabriel asked.

“Um. Crowley wanted to open Purgatory – “

“This 350-hundred-year old brat tried to open Purgatory and nobody stopped him?”

“Who? The angels were kinda busy,” Dean shrugged. “What? What’s so bad about opening Purgatory?”

Gabriel sucked in a deep breath and stared into space. Suddenly Dean was very aware that he was sitting next to the Archangel. There were no manifestations of Gabriel’s power – no exploding light bulbs, no shattering windows, not even the shadows of his wings. He was just serious and it was the first time Dean had seen him like this.

“The Apocalypse is nothing compared to what can happen if Purgatory is opened,” Gabriel said.

Dean and Dean exchanged looks. He had no idea why Gabe was so worried – opening Purgatory couldn’t be worse than opening the Gates of Hell, right?

“Purgatory must stay closed. I’ll make sure of it,” Gabriel said, nodding to himself. The next second he was back to his trickster-self, radiating smugness. 

“Okay guys. Looks like I’m in the game.”

“You’ll help us to prevent the Apocalypse?”

“Yeah – but as a trickster. It must do to keep you both alive. There’s a power vacuum in Hell, but if the new King even thinks of opening Purgatory, I’ll have a little chat with him.”

Dean knew from experience that inventiveness could be scarier than brute force. 

“If it’s Crowley again, make him advertise penis-enlargement products. He’ll quickly change his mind.”

Gabe snorted, giving him an approving look. He looked like he was seriously considering the idea – and maybe he really was. 

Dean remembered their plan to get Crowley’s bones. As much as he hated being zapped, spending nine hours in a metal coffin flying six miles above the earth was hardly a better alternative.

“Speaking of Crowley, can you zap us to Scotland, Canisbay Churchya – ?”

The next second they were standing on the grass in the dark, surrounded by old graves and the sound of waves. It was night in Scotland.

Gabriel looked very proud of himself.

“Thank you for choosing Angel Airlines, we hope you enjoyed the flight.”

Dean sighed and looked around, “Of course, you can. Sam, this way.”

“Nice talking to you, but I gotta go,” Gabriel said after zapping them back. “The floor won’t mop itself. And tell your angel I said hi.” 

Dean froze, too stunned to speak.

“Your angel,” Gabriel rolled his eyes. “The one who left a pretty damn conspicuous mark on your soul.”

“Cas? Castiel?” Dean asked, his voice hoarse. 

“So it was Cassie? Didn’t expect _that_ from him,” Gabe grinned. “Well, tell him I said hi.”

“He didn't come from the future with me. Death only sent me back. The Cas I know – he stopped existing.” Dean couldn’t bring himself to say “dead”.

He missed Castiel, and not because his mojo used to make their lives easier. He missed _Cas,_ his grave voice, the way sarcasm confused him. Hell, now he'd do anything to wake up in the middle of the night and find Cas staring at him.

“The mark wouldn’t have been there if the Cas you know wasn’t here,” Gabriel said without a hint of doubt. “Have you tried praying to him?”

“No, I didn't think my prayers would go to, umm, _my Cas,_ and – ”

“It’s the intention that matters, not the name. Direct thoughts at _your Cas_ and nobody else will hear it. Go ahead.”

Dean hesitated for a moment. He didn’t dare get his hopes up and think that Cas could be alive. If he was alive, he would have already been with them.

But Gabriel wouldn’t have suggested praying right now, knowing that it could bring an angel here? What if Cas was alive but for some reason – Dean tried not to think about the worst possibilities – couldn’t get in touch with them? 

Dean concentrated hard on his memories. Cas pretending to be an FBI agent. Cas throwing Molotov cocktail at Michael. Drunk Cas. Cas in the brothel, looking like he was having a panic attack. Cas showing his wings.

_Cas, Gabe says you’re alive. Can you hear me?_

Please let it be yes. Dean squeezed his eyes shut, desperately hoping to hear the familiar flutter of wings.  
He waited. For a moment, there was nothing and Dean was almost ready to accept that his Cas didn’t exist anymore. 

And that was when his head nearly exploded from an ear-piercing screech. He crumpled to the ground, clutching the sides of his head. The noise stopped as abruptly as it’d started.

“Um. You didn’t hear anything?” Dean asked, getting up and leaning against the wall.

“No. Dean, are you alright?” asked Sam, throwing a suspicious look at Gabriel, who was deep in his thoughts.

“Well, it looked like he tried to speak to me in his true voice. It’s when angels don’t have a vessel,” he explained to Sam. “I think he said my name,” he added even though he realized it sounded stupid – all he heard was a high-pitched noise.

"And how are you going to communicate with him?” asked Sam. “We don’t even know that it was really him.”

“It was,” said Dean and Gabriel at the same time.

Gabriel continued, “Time for yes or no questions. Yes – he talks, no – he’s silent.”

Sam scoffed when Dean took a double dose of painkillers but didn’t start lecturing him. The dose he was supposed to take apparently wasn’t enough to remove the headache caused by talking to an angel who had to speak in his true voice.

Dean had got as much information out of Cas as “yes” or “no” questions allowed. Cas kept insisting he was safe and wasn’t hurt. But he couldn’t zap himself anywhere and he couldn’t use his mojo. Dean was freaked out and had no idea what to do, because if Cas wasn’t in Heaven, in Hell, on the Earth or in Purgatory, then where the fuck he could be? How had Cas even managed to get to this new universe?

At some point, Cas had stopped answering his questions. Dean knew – _felt_ – Cas was still able to hear him, but he’d decided to ignore him. Maybe Cas had started to feel Dean’s headache too.

So he was lying on the bed and staring at the ceiling, waiting for the painkillers to kick in. Apparently, life decided he wasn’t miserable enough, because at this moment the Impala alarm went off.

“Goddamnit, if the demons are screwing with my car, I swear – ”

“Dean, lay back,” Sam got up and looked at the parking lot through the window. “Hm. I don’t think it’s the demons. Wait here.”

Dean sat on the edge of the bed, his head spinning. He wouldn’t allow his brother to go outside alone, but Gabriel had created some kind of “protective bubble” around them so that nobody with ill intentions could hurt them. Dean thought he should've asked him to do the same thing for the Impala.

He heard his brother voice and a woman’s giggle, then heels clicking. After another moment, Sam opened the door and gave Dean a reassuring smile, trying to pacify him. Behind him stood a smartly dressed woman he was once about to shoot. Dean froze in disbelief.

“Dean, there’s a small scratch on your car – “ 

“I’m so sorry,” said the woman, stepping forward. “I can pay for the damage – both material and moral. You must be very fond of your car, it’s such a beautiful thing.” 

He must have looked as if he was about to kill her, because Sam made another attempt to calm him down.

“Dean, the scratch isn’t really that bad – “

Dean reached for the gun under his pillow.

“You can go to the parking lot and see for yourself,” she smiled. 

Dean pulled the gun on her and cocked it. Sam gasped. “Dean, what the –” 

“Bela. I’m so not in the mood for your crap. Hands where I can see 'em.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you like where the story's going?  
> Your comments make my day - you know what to do :)
> 
> P.P.S. Cas is okay, don't worry, guys :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Hope you all are alright, especially after the show finale.
> 
> A huge thanks to [Bucky_182](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bucky_182) for betaing!

“So, Lilith busted out from Hell,” Sam said, his eyes darting to the devil’s trap on the ceiling and the salt lines on the windowsill. They must stay careful, protective bubble or no. No need for the demons to know they were invincible. They would just be more likely to switch to threats or blackmailing.

Bela sat on the chair with her legs crossed, completely unfazed by the gun in Dean’s hand. This was definitely not the first time she’d been held at gunpoint. And even if she was surprised that Dean had recognized her, nothing gave it away.

“Possessing a little girl does sound like Lilith. But we can’t be absolutely sure since we can’t see demons’ true faces,” Dean said.

“The Colt is something a lot of demons would want to get. But _me_? It must be Lilith.”

“Where did she tell you to go and when?” Dean asked Bela, rubbing his temples. The headache started again, but his liver wouldn’t appreciate another dose of painkillers. 

“We agreed to meet in four days at the Fossil Butte Cemetery, Wyoming.”

Dean snorted. _Agreed to meet._ Even here Bela tried to sound as if she was in control of the situation.

“It’s a two-day drive from here. And today you already blew your chance to steal the Colt and to get to us. Looks like somebody is running out of time.” 

Bela only raised an eyebrow in answer.

“Dean, wait. _Wyoming._ Isn’t it where– “ Sam paused, giving him a meaningful look. Dean frowned, trying to understand what his brother was trying to say. Discussing the past-future in Bela’s presence was going to be complicated. 

Then he remembered. The giant Devil’s trap made out of railway lines with the Gates of Hell inside. 

“Yeah, it is,” Dean said, thinking hard. Things started to make sense now and it looked like they weren’t one step ahead anymore. “That’s weird though. No survival show with psychic kids this time?” 

“You think she needs – she can’t seriously think I’ll open them?”

“Depends. She can trick or blackmail you into opening them. Or maybe she just wants to kill you, so that I – you know.”

Bela leaned forward, trying to follow the conversation and intrigued by their conspiracy.

Sam turned to her, “So, you were trying to steal the Colt now?” 

“Yes,” Bela shrugged, unabashed.

“Why not attack me first? How were you going to get to me after stealing the Colt?”

“If I had stolen the Colt, you would’ve followed me wherever I went. Lilith didn’t say I had to only bring Sam, so I figured I could bring her two Winchesters for the price of one.”

“Bitch,” Dean muttered. 

Bela smiled, “Smart bitch.”

Dean rubbed the bridge of his nose. Bela was dangerous – right now probably even more dangerous than the demons. She could still mess with them, though. Dean was sure she had a backup plan. Or she could turn them in to the police or the FBI. 

But Bela could also lead them to Lilith, once she realized she could gain more from siding with them than from working for her. Lilith had offered to release her from the deal in exchange for the Colt and Sam. What if they led Bela to believe they could do it for free?

“Lucky for you, we have black cat’s bones,” Dean said, getting up and taking the duffel he hadn't even had time to unpack. “We’ll go get some graveyard dirt and break your deal. Well, we’ll try – can’t promise anything, but it should work.”

“And why would you do that?” 

“Because nobody deserves Hell. Not even you, Abbie.”

Something flickered across Bela’s face at the sound of her real name, but she quickly put on her smug expression again.

“ _Even?_ ” she asked with an edge to her voice.

“You made a deal to kill your parents. A car crash, huh?”

“If you’re so well-informed, maybe you know why _exactly_ I made the deal?”

“I’d feel a lot better about releasing you if you had a good reason, but I guess you just loved money more than your parents.”

Bela let out a short laugh.

“True. I do love money a lot more than I ever loved them.” 

The nearest out-of-the-way crossroads was a half hour drive away. Bela was following them in her posh silver (and soulless, in Dean’s opinion) Mercedes. Dean glanced at her through the rear-view mirror from time to time, to make sure she was still with them.

“You think she really made a deal for money? When she was fourteen?” Sam asked. 

Dean shrugged. He honestly didn’t find it surprising. 

“I mean, how did she even know how to make a deal?” 

“Don’t know. Maybe a demon walked up to her, made an offer and she agreed.”

“Because it’s so common among demons to approach random teenagers and offer them to kill their parents in exchange for their soul,” said Sam, before adding thoughtfully, “Demons usually choose those who are vulnerable, in despair or some sort of emotional distress.”

“Bela, vulnerable? C’mon, you saw her.”

“Making a deal to kill your own parents knowing that you’ll have only ten years left to live? Sounds like she was pretty damn desperate,” Sam shook his head.

Dean wondered if he should tell his brother more about their history with Bela – for starters, how they had nearly got killed at least twice because of her – but at that moment his phone rang.

“Ellen? Everything alright?” Dean asked apprehensively.

_The Roadhouse couldn’t be destroyed. It was too early, right?_

“Yeah. Just checking on you, boys,” Ellen said and Dean relaxed. He heard music in the background and people talking. Everything was fine. “I wanted to ask if you plan to come over.” 

Dean frowned. They must’ve done something important in his past if Ellen was calling them now. He remembered they had worked a job there, but Ellen’s place was crowded with hunters, surely, someone could take the case.

“We’re kinda busy right now, but we’ll definitely come later,” Dean answered. “Is everything okay?”

She sighed. “There were a few murders not far from here. Looks like there might be a hunt. I was going to tell my friend, but – doesn’t matter. Now Jo’s determined to go check it out herself. I just hoped maybe you could come and take the case.”

 _Oh shit._ Of course, things were going to change if they didn’t follow the exact same course. At least he remembered the hunt – mostly thanks to his brother’s clown phobia.

“Actually, we wanted to come by and already did some research. Are you talking about the murders committed by a clown?” Dean asked loudly and looked at Sam, grinning. Sam made a bitchface and turned to the window.

“Yeah. Any ideas what it is?”

“We thought it might be – “ damn, they had hunted the thing only once and he forgot its name, “ –that creature that sleeps on a bed of dead insects and needs an invitation – “

“Rakshasa?”

“Yeah, exactly. We think it’s the blind man who works there. Make sure Jo takes a brass knife with her.” 

“Okay. Thank you. I still hope other hunters will take this case, though. Have you heard about Gordon by the way? He was found dead a couple of days ago. Somebody – or something, more likely – cut his head off.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that,” Dean said, though he doubted his voice sounded sincere.

“Yeah. He was a good hunter,” said Ellen, sounding equally indifferent. “Alright, boys. Be careful and keep in touch.”

“Yeah. You too, Ellen,” Dean hung up.

“Did we forget about some hunts?” Sam asked.

“Yeah. And Gordon was supposed to live one year longer, but I don’t think his death changes much. He spent at least six months in prison anyway, so... ” Dean trailed off.

“And the other hunts?”

“Screw the other hunts. In four days we’ll have the chance to kill Lilith and to end everything. We need Bela on our side. Basically, we need to change her deal so that she’s our bitch until Lilith’s dead. Can you phrase it properly, lawboy?”

“Sure. Didn’t you know all pre-law students have a course ‘Dealing with Demons: How Not to Screw Up’?” Sam said, taking the notebook and a pen out of the glove compartment.

Bela was furious when she found out they wanted only to change her deal, but agreed anyway. Not that she had much choice – Dean didn’t exactly ask her permission.

Crowley became very cooperative as soon as Dean showed him the bones. He confirmed Dean’s suspicions that Lilith didn’t plan to come get the Colt herself; she was going to send Crowley instead. Obviously, she didn’t want to risk coming near the weapon that could kill her. 

Well, now Crowley had four days to figure out how to convince Lilith to show up at the meeting point.

The three of them stayed in a small town a hundred miles away from the meeting point with Lilith. To Dean’s surprise, they had made it from Ohio in less than two days – he’d thought that Bela would need more time to rest, because she had to do all the driving herself while he and Sam took turns, but she drove all the way without complaint.

Dean was sitting at the diner, waiting for the bill and for Sam to return from the restroom. He’d just finished talking to Bobby – Adam was alright. The initial shock had worn off and he even helped Bobby to do some research on a crocotta that Rufus was hunting. 

Dean paid the bill, ignoring the waitress’s attempts to flirt, when Sam finally emerged from the restroom. Not alone. He was leaning heavily on Gabriel, who was effortlessly pulling his giant of a brother to their table.

“There you go, Sasquatch,” said Gabriel, letting go of Sam and dropping in the chair next to him. 

“I had a vision,” Sam said before Dean could ask. He winced, rubbing his face. “And I think I accidentally called Gabriel. I thought at first I was hit on the head or something and the protective bubble wasn't working.” 

“What did you see?”

“Not much. A man – a doctor, probably – bought a gun and shot himself right in the shop. Rings a bell?”

It sounded awfully familiar but Dean couldn’t remember why. Was it about that town infected by the Croatoan virus? No, that time Sam had seen him shooting a guy. But what was the vision about now then?

“Any other details?”

Sam squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating hard.

“I think I remember the bus logo. And this man was talking on the phone. And then– “

The phone calls. The man was controlled by voice. Now everything clicked into place.

“ –he went to the shop and shot himself. Yeah, I remember now. It’s another psychic kid. Two psychics, actually. Remember I told you about Andy and his evil twin and their power of mind control?”

“Dammit. That’s really bad timing. What do we do?”

“No idea. It’s in Oklahoma, but I don’t remember the town and we won’t find Andy’s address in public records ‘cause he lives in his van.”

Even if they somehow managed to find him in time, Dean didn’t see any other options except for killing the guy. The twin’s brain was fucked up and there was nothing to be done about that. Not while he had his powers anyway.

“We gotta stop him. From what you told me, this twin is as dangerous as Max.”

Dean sighed. Sam was right. The doctor was probably already dead; the next victim would be Andy’s birth mother, and then the girl Andy liked. 

Gabriel cleared his throat. 

“From what I hear, you guys need help dealing with some douchebag? Sounds like fun to me.”

“Can you just wipe out his memory or something like that?” Sam asked, “We need him out of the picture, but not necessarily dead.” 

The archangel didn’t stand a chance against Sam’s best puppy eyes and miserable look on his face.

“I’ll see what I can do. Your head still hurts, Sasquatch?” Gabriel pressed two fingers on Sam’s forehead. “Better?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

Gabriel winked and disappeared.

Half an hour later he reported that now the guy had no clue about his powers and was working as a penguin turner in Antarctica. 

Dean stared at the ceiling. He had been lying in the bed for several hours already, but he was too wound up to fall asleep. They could put an end to the Apocalypse tomorrow. Dean couldn’t help mentally going through various scenarios and his head felt like it was about to explode. Sam was lying in the next bed, but he didn’t hear Sam’s usual deep breathing, so Dean figured his brother was probably awake too.

_Cas? We’re killing Lilith tomorrow. It kinda reminds me of the day we tried to kill Lucifer. Our last day on earth, remember?_

Cas had learned to ‘speak’ quieter, but his answer still made Dean wince. He thought the intonation of the high-pitch noise he heard sounded like a “Good luck, Dean.”

_I just hope everything will work out. Gabriel promised to be there – he’ll see if it’s really Lilith or not. We’ve Crowley on our side, too. And Bela – you don’t know her, but she’s a pain in the ass – won’t screw with us ‘cause she wants to live._

The noise he heard this time was less ear-piercing and almost soothing. It was good to be able to talk to Cas again, even like that.

_You still don’t know where you are? Okay. I promise I’ll find you after we’re done with Lilith._

Dean could swear he almost heard Cas’s voice saying “thank you.”

“There’s grass everywhere here. How are we going to paint the devil’s traps?” Sam frowned.

They arrived at the meeting point with Lilith. It was in about a hundred yards away from the line of the iron devil’s trap that surrounded the Gates of Hell. 

Gabriel shrugged. “Well, if we can’t paint it on the ground, let’s paint it in the sky.” 

He snapped his fingers and they saw a huge devil’s trap appear in the sky.

“Wow. Is it contrail?” Sam asked, squinting in the sun.

“Yep. Good enough? It covers about three hundred square miles.”

Dean whistled. “Awesome. Just break it now and fix it when the bitch appears.”

Gabriel set up a bubble that would make people inside invisible for everyone except for Sam and Bela. Dean stayed there with the real Colt in his hand.

They didn’t have to wait long. A few minutes later, Crowley and a young blonde woman, looking like the Lilith Sam had killed in the past, appeared out of nowhere. Crowley looked around and his face darkened – he hadn’t expected to see Sam alone with Bela. Neither he nor Lilith noticed the devil’s trap in the sky. 

“Bela, I see you brought the Colt and Sam. It's been a pleasure doing business with you,” Lilith smiled.

Gabriel fixed the trap and nodded. When Lilith walked up to Bela and reached for the colt, Sam grabbed her arm and twisted it. She stretched her free hand, attempting to use telekinetic powers or the white light, and Dean almost laughed at her facial expression when she realized she couldn’t use her powers.

“Doesn’t seem to be working, huh?” Sam asked. 

“Crowley, you son of bitch–“ Lilith hissed.

“Oh no, he didn’t do anything,” Dean said, coming out of the bubble. “Look up.”

Lilith gasped as the realization dawned on her. Dean took aim and shot before she could leave the vessel. She fell to the ground, her body glowing with orange light.

And that was it. Lilith was dead. 

Dean only vaguely remembered what happened next. He laughed hysterically for a few minutes. He checked her body several times to make sure she was dead and he wasn’t seeing things. 

Sam stayed calm somehow. He asked Gabriel to make a grave and help him to bury the poor woman Lilith possessed and then fetched Crowley’s bones from the Impala and gave them to him.

After listening to the angel radio, Gabriel cursed and removed the devil’s trap from the sky and disappeared, promising to catch up with them later. He muttered something about drawing too much attention. 

Dean was sitting on the ground trying to fully understand that everything was over. There would be no broken seals.  
No addiction to demon blood. No friggin’ earthquakes, tsunamis and shit. No Apocalypse. 

They had done it.

Bela was already on the phone with someone.

“What, you’re already taking orders to steal – sorry, to procure – unique items?”

“I’m booking a flight to Seychelles,” Bela smiled. “It’s been a rough week, don’t you think so?”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Dean snorted. It’d been a rough what, six months for him? Or pretty much all his life?

“And Dean?” Bela said, without looking up from the phone. “Just so that your conscience is clear, I did have a good reason for making a deal.”

“You want to elaborate?”

“No. And you need to keep a better eye on your stuff,” Bela said, handing him the Colt. “You should say thank you. Somebody” – she nodded at Crowley – “tried to steal. Ciao.” 

Bela turned around and went to her car. Dean sincerely hoped she’d stay in the Seychelles for the rest of her life and they’d never cross paths again.

“Anyone in particular you want to kill?” Dean asked Crowley.

“Alastair,” he admitted reluctantly. “There’s a struggle for power in Hell, and it’s either me or him now.”

Dean weighed up the options before answering. Alastair as a King of Hell would mean nothing good, even for Hell itself – not that Dean cared about demons, but he could see that having a sadist to rule Hell would be bad news. Crowley was the lesser of two evils. Yes, like all demons he was a smart and manipulative son of a bitch, who would abuse any loopholes for his own gain, but he’d also proved to be a useful ally when their interests were aligned.

“You know what? I’ll be happy to kill this son of a bitch. Just tie him up or something and bring him to me,” he said and added, seeing Crowley’s skeptical expression, “I have a score to settle with him, okay? And I don’t want this sadistic bastard to run Hell.”

“So, how far is Sioux Falls?” he asked Sam after Crowley was gone.

“About twelve hours, I guess.”

“Awesome. Enough time to listen to all Metallica and Led Zeppelin albums. Several times.”

Sam sighed heavily.

“There’s somebody waiting for you, boys,” said Bobby and added, lowering his voice, “I don’t know what it is, but the thing is damn powerful.” 

Dean cocked the Colt, which still had two bullets left and headed to the kitchen, giving Sam a sign to follow him.

“Dean, Sam. Join me,” Death said, gesturing at the beer in plastic glasses and food. Chicago deep dish pizza again?

Sam froze in the doorway, staring wide-eyed. He had no idea who exactly was in front of him, but no doubt he could feel the aura of power that surrounded Death. 

“Sam, this is Death. Death, this is Sam,” Dean said. His heart was racing. Death’s visit probably had something to do with Lilith’s death. _Shit, had they killed her too early?_

“It’s an honor to meet you. I– I've heard a lot about you,” Sam said, stretching out his hand for a handshake. Death raised an eyebrow, looking mildly amused.

Dean coughed. “Sam, he’s Death. Handshake is probably a bad idea.”

“Oh. Of course. Sorry.”

Dean sat at the table and pulled out the chair for Sam.

“So?” he asked cautiously. _He hadn’t screwed up, had he?_

A hint of smile tugged at the corner of Death’s mouth.

“Well-played, Dean, well-played. I’m glad to say I don’t regret sending you back.”

Dean exhaled in relief. 

“Thanks for covering up for us. That wasn’t as hard as it could’ve been, I guess.”

“You’d be surprised how difficult changing the universe would’ve been had you made more ill-conceived decisions. You didn’t try to change everything at once, so I let you fix what you wanted to fix.”

“And our Dad?” Dean couldn’t help asking.

“He could’ve lived, but that would’ve caused too many changes and ruined the balance. In the end, you’d have lost much more if you saved him. But he’s in Heaven now.”

“Alright. Good. So, it’s all over?”

“Yes. From now on I no longer influence your life. Some things from your past might happen in the same way, some things will change – have already changed, in fact. You’re free, Dean.”

Dean nodded and took another gulp of beer. It’d take him some time to fully wrap his head around it. No Apocalypse, no destiny, no nothing. Just his life.

“One more thing. Actually, that’s what I’ve come here for,” Death stood up and placed his briefcase in the middle of the room. “Close your eyes.”

Even with his eyes closed, Dean could feel intense, blinding light and warmth. After a few moments, when the light faded, he opened his eyes. At first he couldn’t believe what he saw. He must’ve been hallucinating.

In the middle of the room stood Cas. His hair was a mess – even more disheveled then it had been when they’d first met; his trench coat was slightly wrinkled. Otherwise he looked completely unharmed.

“Thank you,” Castiel said, nodding to Death. “Hello, Dean.” 

Dean stared at him in disbelief.

“Cas – holy shit – how?” 

“Yes, Castiel, tell us how you got here,” Death said, fixing the angel with an icy glare. Cas lowered his head.

“I felt you were going somewhere far away in time and space. So I followed you.”

“I had almost closed the door between the two worlds when he barged in, kicked the door down and almost ruined everything. That’s why your landing was a bit rough, Dean.”

“I apologize,” said Cas gravely, but he couldn’t completely hide his smile, which wasn't apologetic in the slightest. 

That was just too much. Dean stood up, knocking over the chair and pulled Cas into a tight hug. He couldn’t find the right words but hoped Cas would understand how happy he was to see him and how much he’d missed him. 

“It’s really you,” Dean said, smiling like an idiot and still not quite believing his luck.

Cas patted him on the shoulder. “Yes, Dean.”

“So, all this time you were inside Death’s briefcase?” Dean let out a nervous laugh.

“Yes. I assume I couldn’t have been released earlier due to the possible consequences. It would be difficult to hide the changes between the present and the past me from Heaven.”

“But where’s the other Cas? I mean, the one that isn’t from the future?”

“And where’s the other Dean? They merged,” Death answered. “I think I’m done here. Hope we won’t see each other again until your time comes. And Castiel? Continue your research on souls here, you’ll die before you start.”

Cas swallowed and looked away. Death disappeared. 

“Castiel? Cas. It’s nice to meet you. Dean has told me a lot about you,” Sam hesitantly offered his hand for a handshake. 

“I’m very glad to see you too, Sam. You look much better now, with your soul in place.” 

“Uh, yeah. Thanks. It’s kinda weird that you know me, but I'm seeing you for the first time.”

They heard a familiar loud voice, Bobby cursing and approaching footsteps.

“Hiya, Cassie,” grinned Gabriel, walking in the room.

“Has that scary man left? What did he want?” Adam asked, nodding at the place where Death had sat.

Cas tilted his head. “It’s good to see you alive, Gabriel. You too, Adam. Hell is an awful place to be.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Adam, this is our friend Cas. He means he’s happy the demons didn’t kill you.”

Cas wanted to protest, but Dean threw him a meaningful look. “Yes. That’s exactly what I mean.”

Gabriel cleared his throat.

“Sorry to interrupt this heartwarming reunion, but I need a word with my lil bro. Don’t worry, I’ll return him soon.” 

Before Dean had a chance to stop him, Gabe snapped his fingers and he and Cas were gone. 

“Boys, you mind explaining what was that all about?” Bobby asked when they came out from the kitchen, Dean still smiling, Sam looking overwhelmed.

They exchanged looks. Dean shrugged and nodded. Bobby had continued to fight and helped them to prevent the Apocalypse even after he’d ended up in a wheelchair. He deserved the truth. 

Adam didn’t need to know, but he was their family, and Dean hoped they’d become family for him in the future. While it’d be great if at least one of the Winchesters grew up having no idea about the world around them, it wasn’t a guarantee of safety. It hadn’t saved Adam in his past.

“It’s gonna be a hell of a long talk. You got whiskey?” Dean said. 

Adam had got tired of listening about people who he didn’t know and things that he couldn’t understand, so he had muttered something about anatomy books and gone upstairs. 

The bottle was empty when they finished talking, but he didn’t feel drunk. Just tired and emotionally numb. Some part of his brain still couldn’t believe everything was over. He couldn’t convince himself to let his guard down; he still caught himself listening to every noise, almost waiting for the lights to start flickering.

“You should’ve told me earlier. You knew I could help.”

“Bobby, you’ve already helped. And you helped a lot in the past.”

“Great job, both of you. Both in the past and in the present. It’s weird to know how close the end of the world could’ve been. Taking back control from Satan himself, Sam,” Bobby said, looking at Sam as if he was seeing him for the first time. “I can’t imagine how mentally strong you'd have to be to pull this off.” 

“Well, yeah, the past me managed to do that,” Sam said, looking at the whiskey in his glass. 

“You’d have done it too, if it’d come to that,” Dean said, rolling his eyes. 

“Go get some rest, boys. God knows you deserve it. I’m driving Adam back tomorrow – his mother is coming home soon.”

“Thanks, Bobby. For everything. For what you did in the past and now.” 

“It’s good that your Cas is back. You need someone who really understands what you’ve been through,” Sam said as they’re climbing the stairs.

“Yeah,” Dean couldn’t help smiling. His Cas was back. He wasn’t alone with his painful memories he knew he’d never forget. They’d been through all this shit together and he was so relieved to finally have someone who could relate.

It’d been two peaceful weeks. 

Well, almost peaceful – one day Crowley showed up with Alastair in chains when they were having a perfectly normal dinner. Dean was happy to make a hole in his forehead, so he wasn’t complaining. 

They made a point of not reading any newspapers where they could stumble on new cases, and just tried to have a normal life, at least for a while. They did normal things like sleeping till noon, cooking real meals, and going for a grocery run. Dean spent hours helping Bobby in the scrap yard. Sam, after catching up on sleep, buried himself in his law textbooks preparing for the LSAT. 

Dean plopped down on the sofa, turning the TV on. Cas sat down next to him and handed him a bottle of beer. 

“Cas? I’ve been wondering what you and Gabe were talking about? You know, when he zapped you somewhere after Death released you.” 

Cas was suddenly very interested in the toothpaste ad.

“Gabriel thought Crowley’s attempts to open Purgatory were dangerous. He was disappointed the other angels and I didn’t try to stop him,” he answered, not meeting Dean’s eyes.

Dean started switching the channels. Maybe he’d stumble on some of the nature documentaries that Cas seemed to like.

_“We're here downtown in front of the City Bank of Milwaukee, and though a short exchange of weapons fire occurred just minutes ago, police and SWAT teams maintain position – “_

Dean jumped to his feet, spilling the beer on his shirt.

“Oh shit. Shit. Shit. It’s the laser-eyes. We have to fix this. Sam, get the hell down here!” he yelled and ran to get the silver bullets and knives.

“Dean, what’s going on?” Sam asked, walking down the stairs. Dean handed him the gun.

“We’re going to Milwaukee to kill a shapeshifter. Cas, can you zap us there?” he pointed at the TV screen.

“Of course,” Cas said and the next second they were standing right behind the reporter. Sam cursed under his breath and pushed them aside. It was then when Dean noticed they were just two yards away from Victor Henriksen, the FBI agent, who’d obviously seen them materialize out of nowhere.

“What the fu – don’t move!” he yelled, pointing a gun at them. 

“I can wipe his memory,” Cas suggested, not bothering to lower his voice. 

“Nah. Actually, now it’ll be easier to make him believe us.”

Dean remembered fighting demons side by side with Henriksen. He had turned out to be a great guy once he’d realized they weren’t criminals. 

An idea started to form in his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments make my day, so let me know what you think!
> 
> Lilith's dead, the Apocalypse is stopped, BUT there's going to be an epilogue (mini-spoiler - we'll see more Victor Henriksen 'cause he's a great guy), so stay tuned. I really want to give everyone the ending they deserve.


	9. The Ending They Deserve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here's the Epilogue aka The Ending They Deserve :)

“Home sweet home,” murmured Dean, turning on the light as he entered the house. _His own house,_ where he’d been living for about six months now.

The clock showed 2:37 AM. Dean was beat and could hardly keep his eyes open, but he also felt deep satisfaction. After a painstaking week-long search, he and Victor had finally hunted down the rawhead and returned the kids to the parents. One boy needed hospital treatment, but the docs had assured he’d get better soon. 

On days like this, he really felt that he mattered. There were lots of people who’d be able to wake up to a new day because of what he’d done. Saving people was a good way to earn a living.

Dean was brushing his teeth, trying not to doze off right in the bathroom with the toothbrush in his mouth when Cas appeared behind him. He didn’t have the energy to flinch, so he just rolled his eyes and threw Cas a mildly annoyed look.

“Good evening, Dean,” Cas greeted him in a gravelly voice.

“Evening, Cas,” Dean said, rubbing his face dry.

Without warning, Cas put his two fingers on Dean’s forehead and the cut in his left eyebrow vanished. The dull pain from the bruise on his scalp eased off too. 

“You won’t give me a chance to use my health insurance or sick leave, huh?” Dean chuckled, “I can handle pain. You’ll spoil me if you keep healing every scratch like that.”

“You need to be more careful,” Cas answered seriously, scanning Dean for other injuries. 

“I am careful. But I’m a friggin’ FBI agent who hunts monsters, so injuries come in a package deal. How was your day?”

“Good. There were no emergencies, so I watched the bees. Have you noticed that pollen comes only in four colors – white, orange, yellow and greenish?”

Getting beehives was Dean’s idea. Cas had seemed to be lost in this new universe with no Apocalypse and peace in Heaven, so one day Dean had set up two beehives in his backyard. Now the angel had a hobby and Dean was fine with the bees as long as Cas used his mojo to prevent them from flying into the house. 

Dean turned on the computer to check work email before going to bed. Jo and Olivia reported to have finished their salt-and-burn in Montana; Bobby and Rufus were hunting a werewolf in Colorado tonight. Reidy had scheduled a team briefing for 10 AM. 

“Okay, looks like I’ve got about six hours to sleep. Keep your ears on for Bobby. And for Sam, as usual.”

“Sam’s safe,” Cas answered. Dean thought he heard a hint of amusement in his voice, but he was too tired to ask further.

He crawled into his bed ( _with a memory foam mattress!_ ) and pulled up the covers, which smelled faintly of the floral fabric softener he’d bought the other day on impulse.

Cas was in the armchair. Dean had put it in the corner of the room specially for him when he’d realized Cas wasn’t going to quit watching over him while he slept. Dean didn’t quite understand why Cas was doing this, but he wasn’t complaining because he secretly liked the feeling of safety Cas’s presence gave him. 

He didn’t want to talk about it, so he’d just put the armchair in the bedroom and told Cas he could “read books here or something”. There were no books in the house except for a volume of Vonnegut’s short stories and a brand new copy of _Monsters and Ghosts: How to track and kill them by S. Winchester and B. Singer_ , but Cas hadn’t commented on that. 

Sometimes, when he woke up in the middle of the night, he thought he saw the shadows of Cas’s wings over him. 

Cas was usually gone when Dean woke up, though Dean always had a feeling that Cas was still there just seconds ago. And more often than not there was a pie and a cup of coffee in the kitchen, hot and strong, just how Dean liked it most.

The Headquarters of FBI Supernatural Threats Branch were in one of the business centers in Chicago. They shared the floor with two finance companies, but all these workers dressed in neat business suits had no idea they were on the same floor with the FBI. In fact, the existence of their branch was kept secret even from the other FBI branches. 

“I think I found two possible hunts,” Caleb announced. “A woman on a parenting forum says her daughter has been unusually apathetic, clingy, and hungry for the last week, and – get this – she says she saw a zombie’s reflection in the mirror once. I bet it’s a changeling; Charlie’s tracking her IP address now.”

Dean nodded. Caleb was one of the first hunters along with Bobby and Jo to join the newly founded FBI branch. It was great to work with a family friend who, thanks to his travel in time, was now alive. 

“And another case – a guy in his post on Facebook says that his dead brother has been calling him from a nonexistent number every evening for the last four days. Asks him to go to the park and meet him there. I checked the area, there were three unsolved murders in the last two months. Any ideas what it can be?”

“A crocotta?” suggested Steve Wandell, a hunter who joined them about a month ago. Dean always had a sense of déjà vu when he talked to the guy, but he couldn’t figure out why he seemed familiar.

“Sounds like one. Anyway, we need to get this guy’s phone number and give it to Andy. He’ll tell him not to do what this voice says.”

Offering Andy this job was Sam’s idea. He’d felt slightly guilty about stashing Andy’s brother in Antarctica and he’d thought they had needed to talk to him about his powers. Now Andy worked remotely and helped to prevent quite a lot of deaths. He also had all hunters’ personal objects, just in case he’d need to transmit a vision directly into their heads.

Andy’s most important responsibility, however, was talking to the Director of the FBI, who had only a general idea of what their branch was doing. Each time he called, Andy convinced him that their branch had a perfectly transparent reporting and he didn’t have any questions left - such questions as why they purchased fifty pounds of silver last month. 

There was a loud knock on the door and Charlie came in, holding an open laptop with one hand.

“Morning, everyone. Good news – I’ve finally finished the demon-detector program. It’s not perfect yet, but the surveillance cameras caught a black-eyed bitch for the first time. Have a look,” Charlie played a short video. A woman walked out of the department store, and for a second her eyes turned black. Definitely a demon.

Dean whistled. “Damn, Charlie, it’s awesome.”

“Wait till I teach it to recognize shapeshifters’ retinal flare,” she grinned.

Charlie was their savior when it came to everything IT-related. Initially, Dean had tried to persuade Ash to take the job, but predictably he’d refused to leave the Roadhouse. Instead, Ash put them in contact with Charlie, “the best damn hacker the darknet had ever seen” which was high praise coming from him.

“I’ve already got her address,” Charlie continued. “Her husband is at work now, and her son must be at school.”

“Okay. I guess Andy will have to make a few more phone calls. They’d better stay in a hotel in the neighboring town until we exorcise the demon. Ready for another hunt, Victor?”

“I can take this case if you’re tired after tracking the rawhead,” Jo offered, sounding hopeful. She was always eager to be assigned to new cases, the more dangerous the better.

“Nah, demons are in Class E, you can’t hunt them yet. But kill ten more Class B or Class C monsters, and hunt whatever you want.”

Reidy coughed. “Speaking of demons – I reached an agreement with a few home security alarm manufacturers, they are to start producing alarms with a built-in EMF in the next quarter. Also, we’re distributing Ms. Blake’s anti-possession tattoo sketches among tattoo shops. The negotiations with Pandora were successful, so anti-possession charms will be on sale soon too.”

“Great job,” Victor clapped him on his shoulder. 

Dean vaguely remembered Calvin Reidy – in his past, the FBI agent together with Victor had arrested him and Sam the day when Lilith had launched a mass demonic attack on the local sheriff's office. Reidy wasn’t as enthusiastic about hunting monsters as Victor was, but he did a heroic job and was dealing with all the red tape and organizational matters. 

“Agent Harvelle, agent Lowry, you take the changeling, agent Wandell – crocotta is yours,” Victor said. “Agent Winchester and I will hunt the demon. That’s all we’ve got for now?”

“Sheriff Mills sent me details of one case in the morning,” said Reidy. “A man was murdered under mysterious circumstances. I haven’t looked into yet; if it’s out kind of problem I’ll delegate the case to agent Janklow.”

“Let’s get going then,” said Dean, putting salt and holy water in the duffel. “Charlie, can you track the woman’s phone location?”

“Already. It’s a three hours’ drive from here. I’ll text you if it changes.”

Dean felt proud. 

The FBI Supernatural Threats Branch wasn’t perfectly organized yet, but they’d made impressive progress. 

They’d started out as a team of eight people – he, Sam, who now was at Stanford, Cas, Victor and Reidy, Bobby, Jo, and Caleb. After some time other hunters had started to join, attracted by high salaries as well as health and life insurance, and now they had thirty-two hunters in different states. They’d printed their own textbook for newbies and were working on the two-week crash course program designed for FBI agents whom Victor planned to recruit. 

There was still a long way to go. Ideally, they needed offices and at least five hunters in every state. Reidy’s research showed they needed at least 250 hunters and 50 administrative workers to be comfortable. 

Dean was optimistic. One day, their branch would be fully staffed and hunters would no longer have to forge documents, use fake credit cards, and hide from the police.

Sam picked up the phone almost immediately. Dean could hear loud chattering in the background – students were probably having a lunch break now.

“Sam, when does your summer break start? I’m booking a hotel in Amsterdam. No, no flying, Cas will zap us. You think weed has an effect on angels? Relax, I’m joking. How are you anyway? Yeah, and why do you sound so pissed if you’re fine? 

“I’ve just had a lecture in religious studies. It’s the elective I applied for,” answered Sam.

“Don’t tell me you told the prof the truth about God and everything I told you.” 

“Oh, I’m pretty sure the prof knows the truth,” Sam snapped. “It’s Gabriel.”

“Come again?” 

Dean hasn’t heard anything from Gabriel since they killed Lilith.

“Gabriel teaches religious studies at Stanford now,” Sam sighed. “He applied for the post right after I chose this elective.”

Dean tried hard not to laugh.

“Well, who can teach religious studies better than the Messenger of God himself?”

“I’m thrilled,” Sam deadpanned. “He promised to invite an expert on Norse paganism the next week. Do you have any idea who that might be?”

This time Dean couldn’t contain laughter.

“I won’t spoil the surprise, Sammy. But I’d sit in the last row if I were you.”

Sam sighed. “Terrific. Well, at least Sarah doesn’t worry anymore that I’ll be eaten up by some kind of monster. She thinks it’s good to have the archangel around. She visited me last week.”

“Great. Finally you have someone but me to remind you to have a life.”

“Yeah. Hope I’ll survive the rest of the semester or Adam will have only one big brother at his graduation ceremony.”

“It’s gonna be fine. We’ll have the best vacation ever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading my story! Hope you liked it.  
> Comments are very welcome, I'm always excited to read your thoughts!


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